


It Ends With You

by SilentNorth



Category: Haikyuu!!, The Last of Us
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Last of Us, Angst, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Deaths, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Slow Build, The Last of Us AU, Violence, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, quite a bit of gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-05-22 12:53:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 123,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6080163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentNorth/pseuds/SilentNorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago, Akaashi would have given anything to be a doctor, saving everyone, one disease at a time. But five years ago changed everything. The infection spread and, eventually, Tokyo fell. Akaahi was there. Now, he can't even look to the future like he once could. It's a scavenger's life for him in the quarantined complexes until a cure for the deadly virus falls into his lap. It's more of a person than a cure, he's immune. Akaashi's not sure if he's ready to try save anyone else, let alone the world. He's not sure if he has a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Kids From Yesterday

_16 February, 2016, 12:53 AM_

The flat is dark when he opens the door, not that he’s expecting anyone to be up at this hour anyway. It’s nearly one in the morning. Akaashi goes to turn on the light near the couch and to sit down, only to find it already occupied. Hesitantly, he reaches out for the sandy hair as it stirs. Konoha lifts his head to squint up at him.

“Morning,” he says sleepily, smiling at Akaashi.

Sighing, Akaashi sits down on the edge of the couch, his fingers reaching for his forehead to rub out a headache. “It’s not morning,” he replies. “You should be asleep.”

That makes Konoha laugh. “I was.”

“In your room, I mean.”

“I wanted to wait up for you,” he says innocently enough, moving to sit up to make more room for Akaashi. “What’s wrong?”

Akaashi leans back against the couch and closes his eyes. “Long day. Classes suck.”

“Dude, it’s been like six hours since your last class ended.”

“I had work.”

“I know.”

“Work sucks, too.”

“I know,” Konoha scoffs gently, leaning his head on the other’s shoulder.

Akaashi would give anything to just stay like this and fall asleep, even though he’s sure he’d be sore all over the next day. He goes to kick up his feet onto the coffee table only to open his eyes at the ruffling sound of papers. He leans forward to pick up the newspaper, making Konoha huff in annoyance.

“Oh, just leave that,” Konoha says. “You know it’s nothing to be bothered with.”

“How many more now?” he asks, scanning the paper over.

Konoha straightens up, looking away from where Akaashi is bent over the news. “Lots,” he sighs. “A lot dead, too.”

“Hospitals full. Riots all over Tokyo. A kid kills her parents—“ He stops. “They can’t even tell who has the virus now?”

“Keiji, don’t,” Konoha says softly, leaning back over to cover one of Akaashi’s hands with his own, lowering the newspaper. “You can’t do this to yourself every time this happens. You’re eighteen.”

Akaashi throws the papers back down. “Fuck.”

Konoha frowns and leans away again, his head tilting back to look at the ceiling. “You’re not going to be able to do any good in your second semester. University’s tough, but then we’ll have medical school. I know you want to be a doctor right now and fix this sort of thing, but you can’t. Okay?”

“So we sit in our classes while Tokyo burns to the ground?”

Konoha barks out a laugh. “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Akaashi raises his eyebrows skeptically at him.

“Come on now. This’ll be just like the swine flu or cowpox or whatever else was going around years ago. It’ll all blow over. Then you can be the one to cure the next big disease.”

“You’ve never really been good at cheering me up,” Akaashi huffs.

Konoha grins at him. “You know it’s working,” he says as he grabs Akaashi’s hand again.

“And it was swine flue back in 2009. Cowpox isn’t really a thing.”

“Is too.”

“Yeah, in cows.” Akaashi interrupts as Konoha opens his mouth to add to the argument, “Rarely in humans.”

He shrugs. “Well, you got me there.”

The two laugh while the lock on the door clicks open. They look up at the footsteps and quietly put more space between them. Akaashi doesn’t want to tell their flat mates just yet about Konoha and him, even though it’s been a few months. He thinks he might just be putting it off now because he doesn’t know how to tell them. Besides, the last thing he needs is teasing from Sarukui and Komi.

“And I thought Akaashi was late. Where’ve you two been?” Konoha asks sternly as the other two enter the room.

“Out,” Sarukui says, laughing as he ruffles Komi’s lighter brown hair playfully.

“What are you, our moms?” Komi asks.

“Were you waiting up for us?”

“How sweet!”

Akaashi chances a glance at Konoha who’s grinning just a little.

“Well, if I’m your mom, would you mind doing the dishes? Your mothers have worked hard all day,” Konoha jokes.

“What?”

“No!”

Akaashi can’t help but laugh just a little. “Go to sleep,” he says, waving them off. “We’ll do them tomorrow.”

Sarukui and Komi cheer and rush to their rooms fearing a change of mind.

“You know we always say that,” Konoha says as he gets to his feet, stretching out and cracking his back, stiff from sleeping on the couch earlier.

“Yes, and it’s going to start to stink in here.”

“And you know who’s not going to like it.”

“Iwaizumi’s out more than I am,” Akaashi says, reaching for the remote. “The least we can do is keep the place clean. You know how he is.”

“Those little rascals need to clean up after themselves every once in a while.” Konoha turns back around just as their little television flashes on. He groans. “Come one, Keiji. Don’t. It’s too late.”

Akaashi doesn’t respond. The pale glow of the screen illuminates the other half of his face that the lamp doesn’t. Konoha watches the images flicker in Akaashi’s eyes. _Breaking News_ , is in red and hangs intimidatingly over the woman talking into the microphone on screen.

“…these seem to be connected with the ongoing epidemic that’s sweeping over the nation,” the woman is saying.

“How is this going to help?” Konoha asks, hands on his hips, but Akaashi softly shushes him.

“Be on the lookout for signs of increased aggression and—”

Konoha nears the television, squinting closely at the already small picture. “Why are they even reporting this? It’s in all of the files we got in the mail the other day.”

Akaashi follows and crouches near the screen to get a better look as well. “Look,” he says, pointing behind the women. “It’s the Hiroo Ebisu Hospital. That’s nearby.” He pauses to take another look. “Are those…”

“Protesters,” Konoha finishes for him.

“It seems more like a riot to me.”

“…be advised and make sure to use caution at all times.”

Police officers appear in the background, controlling the crowd and keeping them back. They’re shouting something, but the woman’s talking covers it up. One officer nears the camera, his hand held up, as if he can hide the entire scene unfolding behind him.

“Go home, go home,” he’s telling the woman. He’s grabbing her mic, but she struggles to maintain her grip. The officer looks quickly at the camera before back at the woman. “Stay in your homes. It’s not safe.” The crowd surges behind him, the other policemen disappearing from view. There’s more shouting. Screams. The man swipes at the camera with a hand, just barely knocking it out of focus. Something erupts and oranges flames explode across the screen, the sound immediately cutting out just before the image is lost to static.

Akaashi glances up at Konoha to see him already looking down at him. His eyes are wide.

“What the—”

The door bangs open and the two jump.

“Fuck!” Konoha hisses under his breath.

“Iwaizumi,” Akaashi says.

The older man hears them and his steps quicken down the hallway. He hasn’t even removed his shoes. His face is more strained than usual as he looks between them to the television and its static.

“You see the news?” he asks.

Akaashi nods.

“Yeah, wha—” Konoha starts, but Iwaizumi quickly cuts him off.

“We have to go,” Iwaizumi says over Konoha. “I don’t know what happened, but that hospital isn’t gonna be full for much longer.”

"Go? Go where?" Konoha asks, but he stops at Akaashi's hand on his arm.

His eyes are on Iwaizumi when he nods. “Let’s just get Sarukui and Komi first.”

Konoha heads off down the hallway. “Saru! Komi!” He pounds his fist on each of their doors. “Get off your asses.”

Komi’s door opens first. It’s only been fifteen minutes or so but he’s already sleepy-eyed. “What is it?” he asks around a yawn.

“Trouble,” Akaashi says, coming to stand next to Konoha. “There’s riots and someone bombed the hospital down the road.”

“Huh?” Sarukui appears in his doorway, rubbing his eyes.

The front door opens. Iwaizumi stands there, ready to go. “No time to explain more,” he says. “We have to get out of here. Now.”

At that moment, a muffled yell comes from the neighbors’ flat. Sarukui’s and Komi’s eyes go wide. All trace of sleepiness gone. Iwaizumi’s out the door before any of them can say anything. Akaashi follows not too far behind, ignoring Konoha's voice behind him. The neighboring yells turn to screams and grow louder. Down the hall a ways, he catches the next door over before it closes behind Iwaizumi. Akaashi freezes. Their neighbors are in the living room, the layout similar to theirs. A television’s been knocked to the ground, showing the same static as theirs still on the screen. The man slams the girl up against the wall. Even from the door, Akaashi can see the man’s jerky movements. His hands scrabble over the girl’s face, fingers catching in her nostrils and mouth, which is open and screaming. Akaashi is stunned and can’t move further into the flat. Even Iwaizumi seems glued to his place only a few feet away from the couple. The man is grunting and snarling, gone completely animalistic, and has his teeth trying to gnaw into the girl’s shoulder.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Iwaizumi says. Slowly, so as not to draw the man’s attention, he reaches to the back of his pants and under his shirt. Akaashi catches sight of a gun.

“Akaashi, what’s going on?”

He jumps and looks over his shoulder to see the other three approaching. He holds out a hand to keep them back. It feels like they’ve been standing here for minutes, trying to take in, to put together what’s happening in front of them.

“Stay back,” he says, but the sound of gunshots covers up his words. His eyes snap back to the couple. They’re a mess on the ground. The white wall behind them a splatter or red. The silence following is stifling and Akaashi tries to breathe.

He immediately wishes he hadn’t. The smell of blood, and other things he doesn’t want to think about, is overwhelming.

Iwaizumi tucks the gun away again and walks over to them at the door.

“Are we sick?” Sarukui asks in a quiet voice.

“No,” Iwaizumi says shortly, then takes off down the hallway. Akaashi and the others have no choice but to follow

Blinking, trying to clear his head, Akaashi looks over at Iwaizumi as they hurry down the stairs of their building. “Where’d the blood come from?” he asks.

Iwaizumi looks over his shoulder at him. He looks like he’s trying to explain just what exactly happened back in the room.

“No, from before that,” Akaashi says with a shake of his head. Konoha and the others might have missed it, but he hadn’t. Iwaizumi had come back with dried blood already on his shirt and hands.

“Oh,” Iwaizumi says, turning his face forward again. “I ran into someone.”

“You attacked somebody?” Konoha demands from behind Akaashi. “Look, if you’ve gotten into more trouble you can’t—”

“ _He_ attacked _me_. He wasn’t—he wasn’t right in the head. I think he had the virus, too. Like those people back there.”

Akaashi watches his feet on the steps, careful not to miss one. “You shot both of them,” he says breathlessly.

“Yeah.”

“It’s spreading, isn’t it?” Konoha asks.

Iwaizumi doesn’t say anything, let’s the silence speak for itself.

He opens the door out of the stairwell and makes his way to the exit, carefully scanning outside. The red and blue lights of police cars go screaming by. Other cars rush back and forth as well.

“Where are we going?” Komi asks, trying to catch his breath from the stairs.

Iwaizumi sighs, white-knuckling his grip on the door. “We have to get the hell out of Tokyo. The virus will travel quickly through a city.”

At that moment, a car’s breaks screech as it swerves to avoid another car driving in the wrong line. It comes their way.

“Get down!” Konoha yells.

Iwaizumi pushes Akaashi to the ground. His head knocks off the tiles and for a second everything’s black and all he can hear is ringing. Then everything comes rushing back like white noise and he can hear the cement breaking somewhere above his head. It’s muffled under the ringing still in his ears. He tries shaking his head a bit, but that only makes it worse. The next thing he hears is Iwaizumi. It sounds like his head is underwater.

“Fucking tourists.”

“What?” he asks blurrily.

Iwaizumi glances down at him briefly. “They’re all scared shitless and that was probably some fucking tourists not knowing what the hell they’re doing, driving on the wrong side of the road.”

Akaashi sits up far enough to glance around. He feels a hand clench around his heart. Before he gets the chance to survey the damage to their building, he sees Konoha the only one not moving on the ground.

“Shit,” he mumbles, hurrying over. Sarukui and Komi are sitting nearby, nursing scrapes and bruises. Nothing worse than what he has. Iwaizumi looks over but doesn’t move.

Holding his breath, he presses two fingers to Konoha’s neck, searching for his pulse. It pumps along strongly enough and Akaashi sighs in relief. He starts to feel the dizziness from hitting his own head. The others relax as well upon seeing Akaashi’s reaction.

“I saw him hit his head pretty bad,” Komi says.

Akaashi finally looks at the wall of their building. The hole in the wall’s not much bigger than the car, but it had hit right where they’d been standing. Inside the car, the driver looks as conscious as Konoha. Worry tugs at his mind, but Akaashi knows what he really needs to be focused on. He’s guilty for turning away from an injured person, but with Konoha and the rest of their group, it can’t be helped.

Glass is shattered along the floor from the windows. Silently, Akaashi is thankful no one’s hands got torn to shreds. Outside, cars are still zooming back and forth, more panicked than usual. For a second, Akaashi’s surprised that a car driving into their building isn’t drawing more attention. Then, he remembers this isn’t every day. Something much worse than this is happening outside. He stares down at Konoha. And that’s exactly where they need to go now if they’re going to leave Tokyo.

Iwaizumi comes over to crouch down on the other side of Konoha.

“Who did you run into?” Akaashi asks him.

“Someone who I know works over in Setagaya City.” Iwaizumi rubs his hands over his face. “He was acting like they’ve been saying on the news.”

Akaashi thinks about this for a moment, staring down at Konoha, before he asks, “Why did they bomb the hospital?”

“People’s families are being taken and locked up in them. The girl down the hall’s mom was one of those. And just because she’s showing some anger issues? That’s some asylum-like shit. People are scared and when they’re scared they want to be with their families. People’s loyalties are usually for their loved ones first. They ignore symptoms like what I saw with that guy. Common sense doesn’t really apply.”

“And it’s not like they’re telling us anything either,” Akaashi mutters.

Iwaizumi nods. “Right. I bet they were keeping everyone in the hospital as quarantined as possible, too. So someone probably had the bright idea to go blow up the hospital to get their families.”

“That’s crazy.”

“Well, they’re probably infected, too.”

“So much for this all blowing over,” Akaashi mutters. He brushes hair out of Konoha’s face. He sighs and turns his eyes on Iwaizumi. “Okay, so what next?”

Iwaizumi looks thoughtful, like he hadn’t completely planned what they’d be doing next. “I—uh—I have some family outside of Tokyo. Maybe we could start there. Figure shit out, then…decide what we want to do.”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Komi says with a nod.

Akaashi tries to block the noise from outside that’s carried in on the chilly February breeze. People have exited their apartments as well, having the same idea as them probably. They’re yelling and screaming and panicked and it makes Akaashi’s heart race. He wishes Konoha were awake.

“It’s called Tozawa. It’s small and pretty far north. From here we should head to Shibaura-futō Station. I doubt the trains are running now, but we can follow the tracks south then across Rainbow Bridge. I think that’s better than going through downtown. The last thing I want is to walk straight through Tokyo with this mess going on.” He stops, waiting for one of the others to say something.

“Then what?” Akaashi finally asks.

Iwaizumi clears his throat. “We follow it to an expressway and then follow one up the west coast and go north. Eventually, we’ll cross back over east and make our way to Tozawa.”

**———**

Everyone has the same idea. It’s at this moment that Akaashi remembers exactly how many people live in Tokyo. Somewhere around thirteen million. That number catches up with them now as they make their way to Shibaura-futō Station. The streets are packed and crowded, like everyone has been dumped out of the buildings. In a way, Akaashi guesses that’s exactlywhat’s happening. If Minato is like this, he doesn’t want to think about the more crowded wards. He’s glad again that Iwaizumi chose not to go through them and downtown.

Akaashi can feel the strain of his muscles, his heart pumping hard in his chest at the exertion and fear that’s crawling along his skin. He grasps his hands tighter around Konoha’s arms that are pulled over his shoulders. He’s heavy on his back. Thinking back to a year ago, Akaashi wishes he still had the strength and stamina that volleyball had once given him and curses the hours he’d spent sitting with his books studying. The last time he’s run like this was probably their last practice.

He hadn’t wanted anyone else to carry Konoha. Iwaizumi had offered to trade him for the gun, him being bigger and stronger. He hasn’t lost the muscles volleyball had given him back in high school. Akaashi had turned him down though. He’s afraid of how strange the gun would feel in his hands. He chose studying medicine for a reason. He wants the responsibility of helping people, not the responsibility of…what _that_ entails. The responsibility that hides behind that gun. It makes him shiver and his hands go clammy.

Iwaizumi leads them down a narrow alleyway. It’s emptier than the main street, but the noise of the chaos at their backs is loud enough to follow them. Here the dead, the dying, and the injured are, unable to keep up with the panic flowing out of Tokyo. They call and reach out to the group for help.

“Fuck this,” Iwaizumi mutters, keeping his distance from the woman trying to cover a bite on her neck. Angry red scratches run down her right cheek. Akaashi thinks of the couple back in their building.

“Please, please,” she gasps through the moans surrounding them.

Akaashi stares at the ground, trying not to meet her eyes.

“Hey look,” Sarukui says, pointing when we reach the end of the alley. “The station.”

Akaashi wants to feel hopeful. He can feel it in his chest, the way his heart tries to lift at the sight of their destination, but everything’s gone to hell out here, too. He doesn’t know why he expected the station to be deserted or at least not so many people around. Despite everything, it's still the middle of the night. Akaashi glances up and down the street. Cars have stopped and sit abandoned; some crashed together, others on fire. The body count is high. He sees a mother and her daughter holding up in one of the cars parked by the sidewalk. She holds the little girl, watching fearfully out the windows. No one has spotted them. Still, he can’t think they’ll be safe for long like that.

A body slams against the window of the café to their left. Sarukui jumps away, his arm dropping from where he had been pointing. “Shit!”

The odd thumping noise happens again and again in a frenzied rhythm. Akaashi sees it through the window. The girl’s eyes have gone crazy as she throws her entire body at them. Did someone trap her in there? She keeps leaping at them, as if she can’t feel the pain of each thud.

There isn’t time to ponder further as Iwaizumi shoves him into the middle of the road. Akaashi hears the sound of glass cracking behind him. He doesn’t want to turn to watch the girl break out. He can already imagine the glass like a spider’s web right until it breaks. Maybe she’s the spider and they’re the flies.

“Go already. The station’s right there,” Iwaizumi says.

He breaks back into a half run, squeezing himself and Konoha between cars where he can. A woman jumps out at him from behind one. She grabs his shoulders, shaking him back and forth. He yells out in surprise, worried he’ll drop Konoha. She screams at him, spraying spit in his face. He has to do something. Kick her or something, but all he can do is search her face and wonder if she’s infected.

A gunshot deafens him from behind and something other than the woman’s spit splashes his face and his arms. He blinks over his shoulder at Iwaizumi. His ears are ringing for the second time tonight. His gaze moves to the woman on the road, motionless now, the bullet has destroyed her face. She’s in a blue hospital gown. From Hiroo Ebisu?

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Those panicked words draw Akaashi back and he sees Komi pushing a boy off of him. He barely looks like a teenager. Not far, Sarukui’s kicking down an old man who’s also in hospital attire.

“Come on, come on,” Iwaizumi growls. He grabs the boy on Komi by his shaggy hair and tears him away.

Akaashi chances a quick glance up at the sky where smoke billows upward and gathers. He lets a shaky sigh escape his lips. It’s not like you could see the stars in Tokyo anyways.

Shibaura-futō Station isn’t much farther down the street. The sliding glass doors are cracked and have been forced open showing that the night’s damage has hit here as well. Front desks are deserted and, scanning through the crowd of people, Akaashi can’t find any employees either. All the screens flash. Every train has been canceled. Nothing’s running tonight. Everyone’s hurrying about as if they’re unsure why they’re even here. A few people stand beneath the old train times, talking quickly into cellphones.

“I was hoping this place would be less crowded,” says Iwaizumi.

Before Akaashi can reply, he feels the arms over his shoulders shift. “Keiji?” is mumbled quietly into his ear. Akaashi looks back at Konoha as best he can, squeezing his wrists tightly.

“Are you okay?”

“Where are we?” He pulls his arms from Akaashi’s grip and Akaashi helps him onto his feet.

“Shibaura-futō Station,” Sarukui says.

Iwaizumi opens his mouth to give further direction, but screams to their left drown him out. Akaashi feels his stomach plummet. He almost doesn’t want to look.

He doesn’t get the chance to as Iwaizumi pushes him again in the opposite direction. He reaches out to grab Konoha’s hand before they can be separated. Outside was— _is_ —hell, but here he feels trapped. Bodies push together as the crowd moves in one direction away from whatever is at their backs. Akaashi can smell the sweat. He can hear Konoha breathing behind him and he holds his hand tighter.

Under the cries of the crowd, they hear them first. It’s clear what’s at their backs now, even though Akaashi couldn’t imagine what they’d be running from if not the infected. Their growls and groans reach their ears. They gurgle deep in their throats and Akaashi can hear them spitting. His mind flashes him back to the woman on the road just minutes before, shaking him and shaking him.

A firm hand clasping his shoulder makes him jump. He almost starts to fight it off when he sees it’s Iwaizumi. He has caught up beside him and steers him in the right direction. Akaashi is relieved. This is better than just following the pull of the crowd.

The man on his other side suddenly goes down, hitting the ground hard. Akaashi gets a quick look of the blood running from his nose spotting the clean white tiles and of the other man that had pulled him down by his legs. He’s already ripping through the man’s jeans with his teeth.

“Keep moving forward,” Iwaizumi yells in his ear over the crowd.

And Akaashi does. He keeps his eyes faced forward, his legs pumping him on, and his hand grasped tightly in Konoha’s.

But he can’t ignore what’s behind them forever. He can’t ignore it when he hears more yelling and realizes it’s Sarukui and Komi.

He looks back again despite Iwaizumi yelling at him to keep going. Ignore it.

What he sees makes him halt. The crowd parts around him and Konoha like a stream.

Komi’s pulling on both of Sarukui’s hands. Two men with nasty gashes on their faces, both in hospital gowns, tug on Sarukui’s shoulders. One bites into his shoulder and Sarukui cries out. The other tries to reach his neck.

“Komi,” he cries. “Komi, don’t let go!”

There’s a lot of blood when the other man gets his teeth into Saru’s neck and he just keeps gnawing. It squirts out and drips dark down his shirt. The white noise in Akaashi’s ears drowns out the sounds, but he can see Sarukui choking on that blood.

Iwaizumi grabs the back of Akaashi’s jacket just as a girl jumps and latches onto Komi’s back, breaking his hold on Sarukui. She’s shrieking and crying and knocks Komi to the ground beneath her.

“Fucking shit,” Konoha breathes out shakily as he strains against Akaashi’s hand to go back for their friends. Iwaizumi grabs him, too.

“Can’t,” is all he grunts, eyes diverted forward again, focused on pulling Akaashi and Konoha behind him until he’s sure they’re following.

Akaashi knows he’s still holding onto Konoha, but he can’t feel his fingers anymore. All he can feel are his muscles vibrating and his chest heaving. He wonders if he’ll have a heart attack. Hitting the ground here means certain death and he focuses on keeping his feet under him. He keeps his eyes locked on Iwaizumi’s back just a few people in front of him and tries to follow his steps. He makes sure not to lose sight of him in the crowd.

Despite his best intentions, Konoha trips and falls behind him, dragging Akaashi down with him. He scurries hurriedly to get to his knees, trying to see what had happened. A kid, maybe ten or so, has his arms wrapped around one of Konoha’s legs. The kid has Konoha’s pants bunched up in his mouth and he drools and suckles on them hungrily. Akaashi’s mind goes blank. How is he supposed to get this kid off of him? He’s frozen on his knees, both hands holding onto Konoha’s one.

Konoha acts before Akaashi can think of a solution. He pulls his free leg back and slams his foot into the kid’s face. Once. “Fuck!” Twice. “You!” He’s free and yanking Akaashi to his feet along with him.

“I’m fine,” he says. This time he takes the lead, pulling Akaashi behind him. Akaashi tries to breathe in some kind of relief, but he just can’t catch his breath.

Konoha leads him over to where Iwaizumi’s standing by a door. When he sees them, he yanks it open and ushers them in. Closing it with a quick slam, he leans back against it, running his free hand over his face. Akaashi hadn’t realized Iwaizumi’s been holding the gun out this entire time. Konoha slumps to the ground, breathing hard.

“Saru, Komi, they’re—” Konoha starts while panting, but he can’t finish.

Akaashi pulls his fingers through his hair. His dark curls are damp and he realizes how much he’s been sweating. He wipes his face, but it doesn’t help much. The blood has dried. It will take more scrubbing than that.

Iwaizumi’s eyes snap open and he scans around the room. It’s a small office space, holding two desks. He checks under each one to be sure that they’re really alone here. Everything outside is muffled beyond the door.

“Akaashi,” he says, “help me with this.” He gestures at one of the desks.

Akaashi grips one side with Iwaizumi on the other. Together, they skid it over to brace it up against the door.

“We’ll just have to hold up in here for the rest of the night,” Iwaizumi says, his voice cracks, hoarse from yelling. He plants his hands on the desk and stares down at it as if the pattern in the grain of wood is telling him what to do next. “Maybe by then the station will clear out.” Moving around the room, he gives it a closer lookover. “We have to make sure there’s no other way in or out,” he mumbles almost to himself.

Akaashi goes to sit down next to Konoha. He’s pale and sweating, too. Akaashi grabs for his hand. He looks up to meet Akaashi’s eyes.

“How can all this happen in one night?”

He doesn’t know how to answer him.

**———**

“—you don’t, I will.”

Akaashi gets about twenty minutes of sleep before Iwaizumi’s voice wakes him. He opens his eyes in the dark room to find Iwaizumi sitting on the desk against the door with Konoha, who sits cross-legged. Akaashi wants to close his eyes and go back to sleep. They still have a couple of hours until morning. He wishes he could make the most of that and get some more sleep. Instead he sits up.

“I know—” Konoha starts, but he immediately hushes when he sees Akaashi move.

“Now,” Iwaizumi says, not as hesitant, urgently even.

With a sigh, Akaashi slowly gets to his feet and walks over. “What’s going on?” he asks cautiously.

Konoha bites his bottom lip and doesn’t meet his gaze. “I…uh…”

“Konoha,” Iwaizumi warns.

“I got bit.”

Akaashi notices how his voice shakes and so does the lip he rolls between his teeth. He thinks about the blood staining his own shirt stiff and the rest that’s probably still on his face from earlier. Konoha looks untouched compared to him. There’s no way he could’ve been bit.

“How?” he asks. “When?”

“It was that,” he swallows painfully around a dry throat, “that little fucker. That motherfucker who tripped me.”

Akaashi’s mouth hangs open. “He couldn’t—what—but he was just a—”

Konoha looks down at his right ankle. Iwaizumi flips open his phone and shines the light down. Akaashi sees how Konoha already has his pant leg rolled up. Sure enough, there’s a bite mark, deep enough that it’s broken through the skin and bleeding sluggishly. His skin is red and bruised around it. It definitely looks worse than a normal bite.

“What do we do?” Akaashi asks, turning to Iwaizumi.

In his usual straightforward fashion, Iwaizumi replies, “He goes out there,” he jerks his head at the door, “or we shoot him.”

Akaashi wants to disagree. There has to be _something_ else they can do. Iwaizumi must see his thoughts on his face.

“Or if you want to stick around to watch him become like everyone else, be my guest. If that’s the case, I’m splitting.”

Akaashi looks at Konoha this time. “What do we do?” He takes a deep breath. “What do you want to do?”

Konoha’s hands are clenched into fists in his lap. He looks like he’s thinking hard, his eyebrows drawn, biting even harder on his lip. He screws his eyes closed. “I think you’d better shoot.” He cuts himself off before he can make the sentence any longer. He doesn’t want to say those words. _Shoot me_. Akaashi doesn’t even want to think them.

He wishes he could say that the bite doesn’t look that bad. But the infection is spreading one way or another. And how are more and more people getting infected? From the other infected trying to eat them. He has seen enough bites. He knows this is true.

While Akaashi thinks this over, Konoha gains more courage. Grinding his teeth, he gets to his feet.

“You have to,” he says more forcefully now, looking between the both of them. He finally settles his gaze on Akaashi. He stares at him for a long time, long enough for Akaashi to begin to guess what he’s about to say next. “I know this is too much to ask, but—” Konoha bows, his entire body shaking now. “Will you be the one to do it, Keiji?”

It _is_ too much to ask. Both Konoha and Akaashi know this. He clutches his hands in front of him, pulling at his fingers, trying to hide their shaky tremors. Silence fills the room and it’s heavy and Akaashi wonders how the others can still be breathing because he certainly can’t.

“Please,” Konoha continues, not straightening from his bow, “I know it’s cruel—”

“I’ll do it,” Akaashi interrupts quietly.

Konoha gives him a smile that’s both relieved and terrified. He moves forward, reaching out to Akaashi, but stops. His hands form back into fists and he sidesteps away, to stand away from the door and from Iwaizumi who’s still sitting on the desk, statue-like, and from Akaashi. Konoha doesn’t want to touch him. Akaashi swallows thickly and turns away from Konoha to Iwaizumi. It takes a moment for Iwaizumi to move and to look at him. His steely eyes unnerve Akaashi, but when Iwaizumi makes no other movement, Akaashi hardens his resolve to open his mouth. He really doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“I need the gun.” The words come out steadier than he was expecting, but they’re muffled in his ears. He stretches a hand out. Its continued tremors give him away.

Iwaizumi stares at it for a second before he holds out his gun that’s trapped in a vice-like grip. “Right,” he grunts.

It’s warm and damp in Akaashi’s hand, probably from Iwaizumi’s sweaty ones. The gun weighs his hands down. This slight weight is something he has never had to carry before. It’s strange and foreign and he wants to drop it right there and then, but he knows he can’t. So he clings to it. If it’s not going to reassure him like it had in Iwaizumi’s hands, then he hopes it will at least stabilize him somehow. Give him some kind of resolve to do this.

Facing Konoha again, Akaashi finds him squinting intensely at a spot just above his right foot on the tile. Akaashi follows his gaze, but sees nothing.

“Are you sure?” Akaashi asks Konoha and he feels like he’s asking himself, too. His mind is telling him no, but he can’t say no to Konoha now. This is for him after all. It’s what he wants. Akaashi can’t let him down. So he tells himself he has to be sure.

Konoha shrugs. He takes a minute to answer. “I’m sure I don’t want to be one of those things. I don’t want to kill people. I don’t—I don’t want to hurt you guys. That’s what’s going to happen if we keep going, isn’t it?” He turns his eyes to Iwaizumi. He’s not looking over at them, but he nods.

“Yeah.”

Konoha looks back at Akaashi as if that solves his question. It’s decided. He taps the space between his eyes.

“Right here, Keiji.”

Akaashi feels his pulse quicken erratically. No, no…it’s happening too fast. He wants to reach out for Konoha, but he doesn’t think he can handle the thought of him turning away. He looks done at Iwaizumi’s gun in his hands. He’s never shot one before. What if he can’t aim? What if he misses? He wonders if maybe now he can have that heart attack. He’d rather that than be faced with the responsibility of this.

“Okay,” he says with a nod, holding the gun up with both hands. He focuses on the gun, willing it to focus, to stop shaking.

“Hey, Keiji.”

He looks to Konoha.

“You have to be strong out there, okay?”

He watches Konoha close his eyes. “I will, Aki.”

He sees the barest hint of a smile on Konoha’s lips.

He wonders if Iwaizumi’s watching now.

He cocks the gun and takes aim again, trying to copy Iwaizumi from earlier.

To think, Tokyo, infected and diseased, practically a warzone, all in one night.

He squeezes the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been quite a number of years since I last attempted fanfiction, yet here I am! Here's this project I've decided to throw myself into. I'm ready for some good, old fashioned, just for fun writing and I'm looking forward to it!
> 
> And yes! This is an au for The Last of Us. Not sure how closely or loosely it'll be based off of the game, but, you know, I guess we'll just wait and see.
> 
> I have a tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)  
> I'm still working things out so come bounce ideas off of me! 
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](http://youtube.com/watch?v=zl0h5Eo2A2Q)


	2. Suburbia

_“What? You want to spend our Valentine’s Day with Saru and Komi? And at the movies?”_

_“Yes. They wanted to come along.”_

_“But you hate the movies.”_

_“You wanted to see that new movies that’s out.”_

_“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect our date to be with those dummies, but hey I don’t mind, Keiji. It’ll be fun.”_

**———**

_16 February, 2021, 7:05_ _am_

Loud knocking jars him from his sleep and his hand’s halfway to the gun under his pillow. Konoha’s laughter echoes in his head with his early morning intruders’ boots on the kitchen’s old tile as they come in anyway. He remembers a time when people removed their shoes before coming in. His bedroom door is pushed open. The gun aims up to meet them.

“Whoa, whoa, Akaashi. No need to shoot a friendly face.”

Akaashi blinks in the darkness. Sunlight leaks through the boarded up windows, but only just. “Kuroo?” 

“Especially not a handsome face like this,” Kuroo says with a grin and Akaashi tucks his gun back under his pillow. 

“Rise and shine, baby brother. We have work to do,” says a quieter voice behind Kuroo.

Akaashi sighs, “Right,” before standing to follow Kuroo and Kiyoko into the kitchen of his one bedroom apartment. Kuroo calls it cramped, but it suits Akaashi just fine. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to argue against the complex they live in over it.

The windows offer more light out here, the boards nailed with a bit more space between them. Akaashi gets a better look at his friend and sister.

“What’s this?” he asks sharply, narrowing his eyes and gesturing at their faces. Kuroo sports a split lip and an eye that’s starting to bruise. It looks an hour or so old. Kiyoko on the other hand has an angry welt on her left cheek and right above it the lens of her glasses is cracked. Still, she appears to be in better shape than Kuroo, but then that’s nothing new.

“We had a job to do, remember?” Kiyoko says, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“Yeah. _We_ ,” he says as he frowns.

Kiyoko sighs. “I figured you’d want to be left alone.”

Akaashi’s not sure if she’s right or not, but ignores that anyway and hands a bottle of peroxide to Kuroo and tosses a mostly clean rag onto the table. There’s only a third left in the bottle, but Kuroo dampens the rag to dab at his lip.

“We ran into a bit of trouble,” he says, “but nothing we couldn’t handle.” He winks at Akaashi. “So no worries, right?”

Kiyoko holds up a bundle of faded red cards rubber banded together. “It went well, Keiji,” she says at his annoyed expression. “This is your share. Those are ration cards for at least a few weeks, not including what we already have.”

Akaashi takes it. “So if everything went fine, why do you look like you ran into some punches?”

Kuroo laughs, handing the bottle and the other end of the cloth to Kiyoko. “Just some goons tried to mess us up on our way here. Just some nobodies, important to nobody.”

“And?” Akaashi asks.

Kuroo presses his hands together in a praying motion and bows his head, a smirk on his lips.

Kiyoko frowns at him. “They were taken care of, Keiji, but you can guess who sent them, can’t you?”

“Futakuchi,” Kuroo says before Akaashi can say anything.

Akaashi pinches the bridge of his nose. The day hasn’t even officially begun, but he already knows it’s going to be a long one. “Futakuchi Kenji?

“Damn right,” Kuroo spits, hands on his hips now. “That little fucker thinks he can cut us off like loose ends. Get us before we get to him.”

“We need to go see him and get our guns and supplies from him before he really starts to make our lives difficult,” Kiyoko continues.

“Yeah, but,” say Kuroo with one of his shit-eating grins, hopping up to sit on Akaashi’s counter, “Shimizu knows a guy who knows where he’s hiding out.”

Akaashi perks up and looks over at her. “Really, Kiyoko?”

She nods. “North part of town. District C,” she says. “He’s in one of his old bases, but I don’t know for how long.”

What a pain, Akaashi thinks. They’ll have to go through a checkpoint to get there and cross over to the opposite side of the complex. It’s better than letting Futakuchi slip away again though. “Alright then, let’s do today.”

“Now’s better than waiting around,” Kuroo says, pushing himself off the counter.

Kiyoko gives Akaashi one of her small smiles, a rarity these days. “I want to pay him back for what he did to my glasses,” she says, pulling the rag from her cheek.

Akaashi nods at her and he wonders how long it’ll take to rummage up a new pair. Kiyoko used to have quite a collection, but these days they break far to often and they can’t always go out to scrounge up another pair. She didn't use to wear them so often, but when you need to aim a gun, you need to have sharp eyes. With her glasses, Kiyoko has the best aim out of the three of them. For now, he forgets about it. One problem at a time. He turns to pull out a gun from one of his kitchen drawers. He checks his ammo. He’s running low, but surely today’s visit with Futakuchi will remedy that.

Outside is quiet, at least quiet if you weren’t used to abandoned streets with abandoned looking buildings lining them. Nearly five years here have made Akaashi used to it. Some people mill about. He recognizes a few neighbors as they chat nearby. He doesn’t bother listening in; it’s not like the old gossip from before. The complex, virus, infected, military, more rules: that’s all people can really talk about these days. It gets old eventually and Akaashi has other things on his mind.

The rumble of a military issued vehicle, one with a machine gun looming threateningly on top, helps him spot it rolling away down the road. It took a year or so for the military to lock down on certain parts of Japan, creating complexes like this one here in Shizuoka. They had the right idea and it would be a nice kind of city if the number of military men in their dark outfits patrolling around didn’t outnumber the civilians. The complexes were deemed the safest places to be and precious batteries and radio signal were used to reach out to as many uninfected survivors as possible. A lot of other things were devoted purely for military use as well. No music would be found on the radios anymore. Batteries had to be saved. Gas and old car batteries were for their vehicles only. Rations were safely guarded, especially after the drastic drop back in the winter of 2018. Too many starved. It’s hard to lose people to things other than the virus. Preventable things.

Akaashi supposes it’s one way of doing things, and it’s certainly working, but—he spots a couple of kids playing on the sidewalk across the street—but when he sees how skinny some of them are and when too many go without shoes and proper clothing, he wishes it were somehow just a bit different.

At the checkpoint, they run into a line of people waiting to pass through. Guards stand at the station, guns out lazily as they turn their attention instead to the IDs being presented. Beyond them, other guards in hazmat suits check blood. They insert the needle connected to a hand-held machine at the base of the neck and wait to the all clear.

“Clear,” the taller guard says. “Next.”

It’s quick and pretty much painless. Again, of course it makes sense to keep the complex clean and safe.

The small machine beeps and flashes red when its needle has entered a scrawny man’s neck.

“We’ve got an infected,” the guard says while the other holding a gun aims and shoots the panicking man in the head, like it’s just routine. “Next,” the same guard calls while the corpse is dragged away.

But Akaashi still hates it. He thinks about how those bloodstains on the cement will never go away, a constant reminder to anyone coming and going. A reminder to anyone who sees it, really. Things aren’t okay. Maybe they’ll never be okay.

“…and lined them up, shot ‘em, and cut ‘em to bits. They spread the pieces around the entire town. Like an execution. A message,” one guard checking IDs says to her counterpart. Their group has gotten close enough in line now that they can hear the guards’ gossip.

“Every squad?”

“That’s what I heard. They probably thought they’d be freeing themselves. A liberation. Riots all over town.”

“God help us if that happens here,” the man sighs. “That could happen to us. We’ll be the ones being shot then.”

“It won’t,” the female guard says.

The other guard checks another ID card and sends them through to the hazmats. “It’s those goddamned Crows. It they weren’t out there fueling those riots, shit like this wouldn’t be happening.”

“Yeah well, that’s why you gotta shoot them before they shoot you.”

It’s Akaashi’s turn to hand over his ID.

“Fucking Crows,” the woman mutters under her breath as she checks over his card. She motions him to go on through.

The needle prick in his neck says he’s clean, just as it does every other time. He still holds his breath in that split second as the needle sinks in, ready for the one day he won’t be.

On the other side, he meets back up with Kuroo and Kiyoko. Kuroo’s rubbing the back of his neck, making it red with irritation. Akaashi slaps his hand away.

“I wish they’d just check us leaving District C,” Kuroo says as he looks around, rubbing his slapped hand. Somehow it’s even worse of than their District B. “This place sure is a shithole. I wouldn’t care if someone got infected in here.”

“Good thing you’re not in charge then,” Kiyoko says, starting off down the street. “The entire complex would burn to the ground under your watch.”

Kuroo and Akaashi follow after her.

“What do you mean? I’d be a great leader.”

Akaashi laughs dryly and fights the urge to roll his eyes. “You know she’s right.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles.

It takes a good portion of the morning to get to the northern-most part of District C. Even with most of Shizuoka condensed into this closed off zone, which takes up half of the old city, it still takes a while to get anywhere when walking is the only transportation. And today it’s rare to get around any way else.

District C is livelier than District B. There are fewer guards patrolling the streets and people crowd the narrower streets. In some places, people are trying to sell their slim findings to anyone with ration cards or anything useful. Most of the junk definitely wasn't found within the complex's walls. They call out to each other and to Akaashi’s small group as they pass through. It’s noisier here, too. Akaashi ignores them. More buildings here are labeled as condemned and Akaashi can see makeshift homes down along alleyways.

“The military has really shut down this part of town,” he says.

Kiyoko follows his gaze to the condemned buildings and shrugs. “People are desperate here and it’s hard to get your hands on ration cards. You know as well as I do that they sneak out.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Kuroo says, peering down at a display of useless knickknacks laid out on a faded and tattered blanket. A man with one leg sitting next to it winks at Kuroo.

Akaashi frowns and pulls Kuroo away. “You don’t need anything.”

“They’re just not smart about it,” Kiyoko says, ignoring Kuroo’s distraction. She turns down an alley and nears one of the doors. Akaashi’s glad it’s not into one of the condemned buildings and is surprised when Kiyoko opens it and meets no resistance. “We have to cut through here,” she continues, glancing at them over her shoulder.

At the end of the alley, Akaashi can see some old gate that prevents their progress forward. He guesses that’s where Kiyoko is taking them.

Inside is covered in a thin layer of dust. Some of the furniture is tipped over while the rest is covered in rips and tears, probably chewed through by rats. It doesn’t look like it’s been assigned to anyone and seems on the verge of being condemned. All they need is a hint of the virus and this place doesn’t look far off. For now, it’s just a building used to pass through and it will stay that way, even if, or when, it is condemned. Akaashi doesn’t mind either way. Whatever will get this job done the quickest.

By the kitchen in the back is another door. Kiyoko stops and taps out a quick rhythmic pattern. It takes a minute or so, but finally it opens, revealing a short boy with orange hair and bird-like bones. The t-shirt he wears is far too big and it hangs off one shoulder, but he grins at Kiyoko, who offers a small smile in return.

“Hey,” she says, her voice a touch friendlier, “you remember me?”

The boy nods enthusiastically. “Yeah!”

He looks about twelve. Akaashi can’t look at him very long. He looks so malnourished; maybe that’s why he’s so small.

“You remember the plan then, Hinata?” Kiyoko takes a ration card out of her pocket and holds it in front of the boy, but just out of his reach. “No guards and no one working for Futakuchi.”

Hinata nods again and Kiyoko hands him the card. The door shuts again.

“No matter how careful you are, you know he’s going to know we’re here, right?” Kuroo says with a sigh.

“I like being careful,” Kiyoko replies, leaving no room for argument. It’s silent.

Akaashi hates waiting. He pulls out his gun, checks the bullets, and fiddles with it in his hands. Turning it over and over in his hands, he wonders how long it takes for a boy to run up and down the streets. He wonders how the boy has survived this long and if his parents have, too.

The door opens quietly and Hinata sneaks back in. Akaashi quickly tucks his gun away again.

“All clear,” the boy huffs, his face flushed.

Kiyoko hands him another ration card as she passes and Kuroo ruffles his hair.

“You’re a quick little bugger, aren’t you?”

Hinata beams up at him.

“Thanks,” Akaashi says quickly just before he closes the door behind him. He hopes the kid will stay there.

“I guess this is my cue to take the lead, right?” Kuroo asks. This section of District C isn’t under strict military supervision. Kiyoko's good at getting through without being detected and gathering bits and pieces of information. On the other hand, Kuroo has.. _other_ talents. “This is my hometown. Besides, shady’s my middle name.”

Akaashi groans. “Don’t be a headache,” he grumbles.

There’s plenty of space here for more illicit activities. Akaashi’s only been around this area a handful of times, but he’s seen enough. He can hear the pummeling of skin on skin in the distant, but street fighting is most likely the least of their worries. Plus, he’s not too keen on buying any cooked rodents or whatever’s been caught in the streets. He can smell them from where they hang outside one of the tents that’s propped up. It makes his flesh crawl. Not that he’d turn up his nose at any kind of meal. He’s just been in that situation before and doesn’t feel the need to relive those memories any time soon.

Kuroo weaves his way through the tents strung up, stopping at times to peer inside. A couple people yell at him and chase him away, but for the most part, he’s ignored. Finally, he stops at one of the tents near the end of the road and his faces splits into a grin.

“Yamamoto!”

“What the hell?” a voice shouts from inside. “Kuroo, you bastard! You think you can just prance on into my home like this?”

The mohawked man comes out and gives Kuroo quick hug and a firm pat on the back.

“I expected better hospitality from you, Yamamoto,” Kuroo says playfully. “Is this how you greet an old friend?”

For a second, all Yamamoto can do is blink at Kuroo. “It’s been over a year! You could’ve been dead for all I knew. So, I’m sorry, welcome to my humble abode.”

Akaashi knows Yamamoto. He last saw him probably the same time as Kuroo, although it’s news to him that the two friends haven’t met up since. He wonders if it has anything to do with how much Kuroo despises District C. He always complained to Akaashi that it had taken him forever to save up and get out of there, but Akaashi had always suspected it went a little deeper than that.

“That’s more like it!” Kuroo says. “Now, we can’t stay for long, but I knew you’d be a good guy to go to for some information.”

Yamamoto scrubs his fingers over the bleached part of his hair and grins. “Don’t know where you heard that, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ve heard that Futakuchi is in the area,” Kiyoko says, stepping out from behind Kuroo. “We’re looking for him.”

“Sh—Shimizu!” Yamamoto gasps, his face reddening in a blush. “I didn’t know you were here.” He glances back at his tent. “I should’ve cleaned up or made something or—”

Kiyoko holds up her hands. “Please don’t worry. We’re just here for some information.”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” he stammers out.

Akaashi wonders how people can still have crushes even now. They seem like such simple, even trivial, things. Anyway, there is far too much else to be concerned with these days.

“Yeah, I saw Futakuchi,” Yamamoto says after composing himself. “He just passed through here not too long ago. ‘Bout…fifteen minutes.”

“He’s probably in that old warehouse building,” Kuroo mutters. “Just like you said, Shimizu.” He turns back to Yamamoto. “Thanks for your help,” he says, reaching into his pocket for a ration card.

Yamamoto holds his hands out. “Hey, no way, man. I’m not going to take that. You don’t owe me anything. Favors for favors, right?”

Kuroo puts his cards away and sighs, smiling at his friend. “Yeah, yeah, favors for favors.”

Favors is hardly the word for it, Akaashi thinks, but when you’re in a group and saving each others’ lives is a day-to-day occasion, he supposes it works well enough. Being indebted to each other is not exactly a situation Akaashi would enter into willingly, but, looking over at Kuroo, he knows he already has.

“I’ll see you around then,” Yamamoto says, clapping Kuroo on the back. “Good luck with Futakuchi.”

Kuroo nods and heads off in the direction that had been pointed out. Kiyoko thanks him before following and leaves Yamamoto all flustered again as he disappears back into his tent.

They leave the rows of tents behind and start over toward the large warehouse across the street. It’s completely deserted here. It grows silent around them as they leave the livelier part of the district behind. Taking up the rear, Akaashi glances around, seeing the old spray painted messages on cement and brick walls.

_No hope_

_STAY AWAY_

Some are older than others. He’d like to think that there’s at least a little hope in the complexes. It’s better than trying to survive nights out in the open. It used to be that you couldn’t even spend one out there without seeing your hopes of getting through alive start to disappear. They may take risks now and sneak out of the complex, but they don’t spend the night if they can help it. Sleepovers with the infected are a little less than fun.

Just before the gated off area of the warehouse, Akaashi spots another message. This one’s newer. It looks like a bird. Its wings painted hastily and left to drip. _FLY_ is written above. Akaashi knows exactly what this is. The paint may be new, but the message certainly isn’t. The Crows may be dying off due to their overzealous stance against the military, but they’re definitely still recruiting. Though who’d want that death sentence, Akaashi has no clue.

Kiyoko leans down as she runs across the street, trying to stay low. Kuroo and Akaashi are steps behind her. They cross quickly and stop against the bottom bricked part that the fence is attached to, hidden from the other side. Kiyoko and Kuroo stay crouched while Akaashi peers over the top through the chained link fence. He’s got the best eyes now, considering Kiyoko’s lack of a lens and Kuroo’s crazy hair a clear giveaway.

“I see him,” Akaashi says. He lowers himself back down to their level. “He was talking to this really tall guy, but now he’s gone further in.”

Kiyoko nods. “There are offices in the back.”

“What, did you have that little runt from before scope the place out, too?” Kuroo asks.

Akaashi’s stomach clenches at the thought of a kid like that in a place like this with a person like Futakuchi and his team around.

“Do you think I’m cruel?” Kiyoko asks in a monotonous voice. Akaashi shoots Kuroo a glare for pissing off his sister.

Kuroo raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, just checking.”

“Let’s just go,” Akaashi mutters before Kuroo can make more of an ass of himself.

Kiyoko doesn’t say anything, but starts off, leading them around the left side of the fence to an opening that’s hidden behind one of the large storage crates. She motions them through and points along the fence, signaling them to stick to it. They nod and begin to creep along. Akaashi feels his shoulders tense as he hears the men on the other side of the crates chatting. He hopes they won’t have to run into anyone besides Futakuchi, but he pulls out his gun as Kuroo and Kiyoko do, too.

They stop suddenly when Kiyoko holds up a hand. She disappears around the edge of the end crate. There’s hardly sound of a struggle, but suddenly she’s backtracking back around, her arm locked around a large man’s neck. Akaashi recognizes him as the one Futakuchi was talking with just minutes ago. His hair is white and he’s probably the tallest man Akaashi has seen in quite a while. Although he is definitely well muscled, his swipes at Kiyoko are all in vain. She’s done this before, too many times to count, and knows exactly how to hold him, staying out of reach until he runs out of air. When his movements finally slow and he’s out, Kiyoko lowers him to the ground with barely a sound.

She continues to lead the way. They pass by some old forklifts that look like they haven’t been used since the day this place went to hell, abandoned where they were.

“There,” Kiyoko says, her voice hardly even a whisper. She nods to a battered looking door.

Akaashi goes to the door, opening it gently. He’s lucky the hinges don’t squeak. After Kuroo and Kiyoko have followed him inside, he eases it closed again, hoping no one saw their entrance.

They’ve walked into an old lounge of sorts, maybe a break room, but it’s empty. No Futakuchi here. There’s one more door to try.

Kuroo opens it this time and is immediately met with gunfire.

“Shit,” he grunts, backing against the wall.

At least he wasn’t dumb enough to stand full in the doorway, Akaashi thinks, following his example on the other side of the door, Kiyoko at his shoulder. Her gun’s out and ready.

“Come on, Futakuchi,” Kuroo calls. “We’re just here to talk!”

“Yeah fucking right!” Futakuchi yells back, firing at the doorframe again. Kuroo winces away from it. “There’s nothing to talk about.” His gun clicks empty and Akaashi can hear him throw it to the ground.

“He’s running,” he says quickly, pushing hard off the wall to give chase.

“Futakuchi!” Kuroo yells behind him.

Kiyoko’s silent, but Akaashi knows she’s following as well.

If anything, Akaashi is quick. He skids a tight turn through the door Futakuchi had gone and is face-to-face with another. It’s closed. Futakuchi’s attempt to slow them down. He wastes no time, kicking it open just in time to see him disappear around a corner of a back alley behind the warehouse. The sound of garbage cans toppling alerts Akaashi to the turns he’s making. Futakuchi’s trying to play hard to get. He jumps over one and slides around the next.

Finally, he turns a corner and sees Futakuchi. He’s pressed up against the same gate that they had to go around a little under an hour ago. He glances over his shoulder to see Akaashi and panics. It’s as if he thinks shaking the railing enough will help him get through. He realizes quickly that he’s not going anywhere. For a second, he allows his forehead to rest against the bars before turning around to face Akaashi.

“Hey now,” he says, his voice shaking and out of breath. “No hard feelings right?”

“Of course not,” Akaashi says with a shrug. “It’s not like you greeted your so-called business partners with gunfire.” He can hear Kiyoko and Kuroo coming up behind to join them. They’re not too far away now. “And that doesn’t even account for everything else.”

Futakuchi laughs a little, shrugs, then makes a break for it around Akaashi. He runs square into Kiyoko who pushes him back. She slams her foot right into his kneecap and he hits the ground.

“We were scheduled to meet two days ago,” she says quietly.

Futakuchi lets out a whimper. “Yeah, I know, I know. I got busy and things came up, but look, whatever you think I’ve got, I don’t. So let’s just call it even. I shoot at you, you throw a few punches at me.”

“This sleezeball,” Kuroo snorts. “He doesn’t even know who we are. Probably wet his pants already, too.”

“Our guns,” Akaashi clarifies, “plus whatever else you owe us. And I think we’ll need a little bit on top to cover the damage you did by attacking us earlier. Did you think you could cut us out and keep the proceeds? Do you even know what a partnership is, Futakuchi?”

Futakuchi glares up at him. “Moniwa never had to deal with this shit.”

“Hey!” Kuroo kicks him right in his nose. “You’re the one dealing the shit!” He gives him another good one to the gut.

“Moniwa knew what it was like to run a business. I have no idea what he thought he was doing when he handed it over to you,” Kiyoko says.

“So where’s our stuff?” Kuroo demands.

Futakuchi curls in on himself. “I don’t know,” he snivels.

Kuroo crouches down low so that their faces are inches apart, pulling Futakuchi’s arm behind his back. “What was that?” His voice is dangerously low now.

“I don’t have them,” Futakuchi says, louder this time. “I don’t know where they are.”

“You sure about that?” Kuroo pulls his arm tighter and Futakuchi winces.

Akaashi takes a few steps away, rubbing out a headache that’s coming on. He hates when Kuroo gets like this, but he hardly cares to stop him right now. This day was supposed to go so much smoother.

“I—I sold them.”

His headache throbs about the same time Futakuchi’s arm snaps. This puts a dampener on a lot of things. He turns back to where Futakuchi is a sniffling mess.

“A bit immature,” he says to Kuroo, but he’s just as angry. “Then who has them?”

“No, no,” Futakuchi moans, rubbing his face into the dirt. “I can pay you back. Just a—a week!”

It’s Kiyoko’s turn to crouch down at his head. “I was hoping you thought higher of us,” she says so quietly that Akaashi can barely hear her. “Why would we go making deals with someone who tried cutting us out?”

Futakuchi whimpers again and turns his face away from Kiyoko and further into the ground.

Kiyoko grabs his hair and makes him meet her eyes. “Who has them?” When he doesn’t speak at first, she gives his head a hard shake. “Damn it, Futakuchi, who has our stuff?”

“The Crows,” he finally says, tears streaking down his grimy cheeks. “I was backed into a corner. No choice.”

“And what, this isn’t you backed into another corner?” Kiyoko asks with a small laugh of disbelief, letting go and backing away.

It couldn’t get much worse than the Crows. That’s something Akaashi definitely does not want to deal with. “You should’ve feared us more than the Crows,” he says.

Kuroo pulls out his gun. Futakuchi sees it, his eyes going wide.

“No, no, no—I can fix this!”

Akaashi turns his head away as Kuroo fires and Futakuchi’s body goes limp.

“What the hell was Moniwa thinking?” Kiyoko mutters.

“Guess that ends that partnership,” Akaashi says. “So? Now what do we do?”

Kuroo runs his hands through his hair, making it even more of a mess. Kiyoko shakes her head while she thinks.

“We have to get our stuff back,” she says with finality and a shrug. “Crows or not.”

“That isn’t really a plan,” Kuroo says, tucking his gun into the back of his pants.

Kiyoko huffs in annoyance. “I don’t know. We talk to them, see if we can figure something out. I know a few. Maybe they’ll listen.”

“Well, I’m listening.”

They jump at the sound of the new voice and turn around. Not too far away, stepping out from the next street over, is a man. He has a strong build, short dark hair, and looks pretty bad off. His left cheek is covered in some bloody gauze that needs changing and his right hand holds a wound in his side that’s most likely from a gunshot.

“Hey, it’s captain of the Crows,” Kuroo says with a not too friendly grin. “Maybe our luck is finally turning around.”

Akaashi doesn’t know this man, but apparently both Kuroo and Kiyoko do.

“Hello, Daichi,” Kiyoko says in greeting.

“What’re you doing here, Kiyoko?”

And they’re on a first name basis. Akaashi vaguely remembers Kiyoko telling him about how she had done some business with the Crows a long time ago, before they had met back up. That was about a year into all of this.

Kiyoko shrugs. “Business as usual.” Her voice sounds indifferent, but Akaashi sees the way she eyes Daichi’s wounds. She raises her eyebrows at him in a silent question.

“Business,” he replies, shrugging right back. “Speaking of which, I’m meeting with Futakuchi, but he’s a no-show. Have you seen him?”

Before he even finishes his question, Kuroo points at Futakuchi’s body with wide eyes, as if playing innocent. Too bad it’s clear his blood is on their hands. Akaashi figures Kuroo’s response might’ve been funny if he weren’t pointing at, well, a corpse.

Daichi curses under his breath.

“The guns he sold you were ours,” Kiyoko says. “And we need them back.”

“I’m sorry, Kiyoko, but I just can’t hand them over to you.”

“Why the hell not?” Kuroo asks, but Daichi keeps talking over him.

“I paid for them, fair and square.” His lips quirk a smile at his own odd choice of words. “If you want them back, I’d be happy to work out an agreement.”

Kiyoko scoffs. “I bet you would.”

“Futakuchi owed us a kind of interest on top of those guns, too,” Akaashi says, speaking up for the first time. “For a mistake on his part.” That mistake being he had tried to kill them. Akaashi wants to make sure this’ll all be worth their while.

Daichi offers him a placating smile. “Then I’m sure we can come to a compromise.” He looks at Kiyoko. “You do the smuggling job I wanted Futakuchi to do—” Kiyoko goes to interrupt, but Daichi holds up the bloody hand from his side. “—you did kill him after all. You do this for me and I give you what you wanted from Futakuchi, plus extra. As my thanks.”

Kiyoko looks at Kuroo, who shrugs, and then Akaashi, who reluctantly agrees.

“I’d like to see our guns,” Kiyoko decides on saying, facing Daichi again, giving him a suspicious look. “You guys have been dropping faster than flies these days so I hope you can understand.”

He nods, choosing to ignore her comment. “Of course, we can go right now, if you want, and I can show them to you.”

Kuroo groans, but says, “Yeah, now’s good,” though to Akaashi he mutters, “I really didn’t want this to turn into an all day thing.”

Akaashi sighs, feeling the same way. They follow Kiyoko and Daichi down to the next street over, leaving Futakuchi’s body behind, untouched.

 **———**

Military trucks circling on patrol is enough to hurry the group along. They twist and turn down streets to another part of District C. Along the way, Akaashi becomes properly introduced to Sawamura Daichi, leader of the Crows, at least in this complex, he states. He leads them through a rusted gate that’s in front of a small, rundown apartment. It’s tucked out of the way, just the Crows’ style.

“You have our guns here?” Kuroo asks doubtfully with raised brows.

“No,” Daichi grunts.

After that last sprint from the guards, Kiyoko’s been helping him along. His spare arm is over her shoulders, gripped tightly in a fist. It appears he’s holding onto something.

“It’s just a quick stop, I promise,” he says. He reaches out and opens the door, stumbling inside with Kiyoko’s assistance.

“Hey, hey—oh shit,” a voice sounds from the dark inside. His excited greeting is cut short when he sees the state Daichi’s in. “Who’re they? Didn’t know you were bringing guests.”

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” Daichi says, though he sounds anything but. “Just give me a minute.”

Akaashi is the last to enter and he quickly closes the door. He gives the place a once-over. It’s even tinier on the inside than it had looked. An empty bookcase stands to his right. Scuff marks on the floor show that it has been pushed across the door a number of times. Similarly around the room, the furniture looks like it has been moved around quite a bit. At the moment, most of it just looks like it was set aside to make space, not in any kind of order. Only a couch and a coffee table seem normal where they sit in the middle of the room. The boards across the windows are set together tighter than his place. Hardly any light comes through even though the building is facing the sun now as it begins its descent. Because of that, he has a hard time making out the other figure’s face across the room. He hovers around Daichi as Kiyoko releases him, like some kind of restless bird.

“What kind of trouble did you get yourself into this time?” he asks Daichi.

Daichi sighs, pressing his fist firmly to his lips, closing his eyes. It seems this other guy has a talent for causing headaches. Akaashi wonders if Daichi has known him long. As he shoots along more questions, Akaashi finds himself amused for a second at Daichi’s annoyance.

“Do you have a first aid kit or anything I can get you?” Akaashi asks, deciding to spare Daichi the continued onslaught of questions, but Daichi shakes his head.

“Thanks, but don’t bother. I only need a second, then we can move on.”

Kuroo points at the stranger in the room, finally calling attention to him. “So who’s this?” he asks. “You’re pretty awful at introductions, Daichi.”

Akaashi thinks Daichi might have a few more things on his mind besides simple formalities, but he doesn’t mention this.

“This,” Daichi says, casting a strict gaze at the stranger, who in turn pouts, “is the job I’m asking you to do for me.”

“I’m Bokuto,” he says, his pout immediately turning into a bright grin, teeth flashing in the dark. “Nice to meet you.”

Turning to Daichi, Kiyoko frowns, saying, “That’s not how this works, Daichi. We’re not doing your job until we see our guns.”

“I know, I know,” Daichi says and Akaashi watches Bokuto’s figure fidget in the dark while the talk shifts from him to business. “It’s just that we were close by and I need one of you to stay here with him while I take you to where your guns are.”

“What is he, a kid?” Kuroo asks.

“I’m twenty,” Bokuto says, but Daichi’s voice drowns him out.

“I know these are unusual circumstances for a smuggling job. Just—”

“So then we are smuggling him?” Akaashi asks, pointing. Despite what Kuroo said, Bokuto doesn’t look like a child. “He can’t take himself?”

“No, like I said—”

“It’s fine,” Kiyoko breathes. “Fine.” She turns to Akaashi. “Look, will you stay here, Keiji? Kuroo and I will check stuff out then we’ll be right back.”

Akaashi narrows his eyes. “So I’m stuck here babysitting just because you and Kuroo went off and did this job without me last night?” he asks quietly.

She frowns and is about to argue or explain herself or whatever, but Akaashi interrupts. He hates seeing her frown like that. Besides, he knows exactly why she didn’t call on him last night. Even though he definitely couldn’t sleep and would’ve liked to have been out doing something, he can find it somewhere inside of himself to be grateful.

“Alright, it’s fine. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’ll stay.”

Giving him a relieved smile, Kiyoko faces Daichi again. “We’re good to go. What’s the plan?”

“We’ll head to our camp and I’ll show your stuff get myself fixed up.”

“Ooh, we get to see the Crows’ nest,” Kuroo whispers, his eyes flashing excitedly.

“Once you’ve verified your things, you can take him,” he points to Bokuto, “to the Shizuoka Prefectural Office. There will be other Crows to meet you there. It’s not far.”

“But it’s outside the complex,” Kiyoko says.

“And?”

She stares at Daichi in silence. Akaashi has to admit, she’s pretty scary, especially with her broken glasses. He can hardly imagine the headache she’s currently having from looking through them all day.

Daichi heaves out a long breath, knowing he’s not going to win this one. “I’ll double whatever Futakuchi was going to give you.”

“Alright let’s go,” Kiyoko says with a brisk nod. There’s a reason she’s their negotiator. It’s not as though going outside of the complex is anything new. However, everything’s a risk these days and everyone expects to be compensated for taking them.

Daichi holds up a finger. “One more minute, please.” He ignores Kuroo’s groaning and turns to Bokuto who lights up at finally being brought back into the conversation. “I know I told you Futakuchi and I would be taking you tonight, but the plans changed.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Obviously, two guards wasn’t enough. You had to bump it up to three.”

“Right,” Daichi says drily.

“So what’ve you got there?” Bokuto asks, pointing at Daichi’s still clenched fist.

He opens it. His hand is bloody like the other, but dried by now. In the center of his palm is a tooth. A molar by what Akaashi can see through the dim.

“Whoa, that is so cool!”

Daichi chuckles and places it on the battered coffee table in the middle of the room before standing. “No, not really.” He winces as he straightens his back. “Make yourself comfortable,” he says to Akaashi and turns back to Bokuto. “Stay safe, alright?”

“Yes sir!” Bokuto salutes.

“We’ll be back,” Kiyoko says to him before she and Kuroo follow Daichi.

Akaashi stays where he’s standing, even after they leave and the door shuts. His bones feel beyond heavy as exhaustion washes over him. In the long run of things, it’s been a fairly regular kind of day. At least a regular day where things go to shit as much as they can. Finally, he moves his legs to sit on the ratty couch. Bokuto continues to hover. Akaashi leans back into the couch and allows his eyes to slide shut. It’s about a minute before he’s interrupted.

“Hey,” Bokuto whispers, “ are you sleeping?”

Akaashi opens one eye, then closes it. “I’m trying to.”

There’s silence again.

“But it’s not dark yet.”

Akaashi counts to ten before answering. “I’m tired.”

“What’s your name?”

“Akaashi.”

“I’m Bokuto.”

“I know.”

He holds his breath this time, just waiting for Bokuto to say something else, but he doesn’t. Finally, he allows his body to relax and goes to release his breath—

“If you’re going to sleep, what should I do?”

“I don’t care,” Akaashi mumbles.

It’s silent at last and he begins to drift off to sleep. He’s sure he imagines it, but somewhere in his drowsiness he hears his name being said over and over again, whispered, but he ignores it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope to keep updating every Sunday, but just a heads up, I have midterms this week so next week is looking a little tentative. There shouldn't be a problem, however if it is a bit later that's why. 
> 
> (And yes, I updated chapter one just before posting this. Nothing big, just adding a few italics)
> 
> If you're wondering about any characters, backstories will come so don't worry!
> 
> I have a tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](http://youtube.com/watch?v=JkgM35fCdmE)


	3. The Parting Glass, part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a small bout of a panic attack briefly mentioned, just so you are aware.

Akaashi wakes to someone poking his shoulder, something quite different from his usual wakeup calls. Usually it’s a shout or a shake or coming trembling out a nightmare. This still makes him jump. Sitting up straight, he glances around.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bokuto says with a grin. His voice echoes off the empty walls. “You’re friends are back, I think.”

Rubbing his eyes, Akaashi gets to his feet. “What do you mean you think?” He walks over to the window and squints through the tiny space between the boards. Sure enough, there’s Kuroo and Kiyoko coming through the gate. Bokuto comes to join him, but Akaashi moves away to the door. He stops when he sees the bookcase has been pushed over it. “Is this necessary?” he asks, looking over at Bokuto.

Bokuto only shrugs, his eyes wide and lips pursed.

“Well, help me move it,” Akaashi sighs.

Even as bad as District C is, it’s been effectively cleaned out just like A and B. There’s hardly any reason to be so paranoid. Unless they’re worried about gangs or whatever else happens in District C. Or maybe Daichi’s afraid of the military finding his house here. They’d give anything for someone as important as Daichi is to the Crows after all.

When Akaashi gets the door open, Kuroo and Kiyoko are already waiting there. Kiyoko passes him his backpack as she enters. Kuroo offers a happy salute in greeting.

“I take it things went well then?” Akaashi asks as he closes the door.

“Bro, we’re gonna have it made when we get back,” Kuroo says, grinning widely. “They had all our stuff plus Daichi’s gonna double it.”

Akaashi settles back onto the couch, unzipping the backpack he sets on his lap. He sighs in relief. “Good.”

“We ran by and grabbed our stuff,” Kiyoko says. “Dinner is inside, too. We should eat quickly before we leave.”

It’s a couple packets of crackers. Akaashi can already guess that they’ll be stale, but it’s still a welcomed sight after not eating today. He nods his thanks and opens the plastic. Kiyoko and Kuroo settle in, too. Kiyoko slides into the couch beside him while Kuroo takes the floor. Bokuto is perched on the edge of the armchair across the room.

“So, Bokuto, hmm?” Kuroo drawls as he attacks the plastic around his crackers with his teeth.

Bokuto nods and Kuroo tosses him a cracker, which he expertly catches.

“Nice!” he laughs. “I’m Kuroo. That’s Shimizu.” He points at Kiyoko. “And Akaashi.”

“He knows,” Akaashi mumbles while chewing. “And it’s rude to point.”

Kuroo only laughs more. He seems in a much happier mood after coming back. It makes Akaashi feel better as well. By tomorrow morning, this will all be over and done with. Plus it’s always nice to eat together.

“Aw, Shimizu!” Kuroo exclaims, going through his backpack. “You shouldn’t have. I think you might be spoiling us, you know.” He pulls out a box of raisins.

Kiyoko shakes her head, but she can’t hide her smile. “Just behave yourself.”

But as usual, Kuroo doesn’t.

He tosses the box to Bokuto and gets to his feet. “Throw me one.”

“Really?” Bokuto asks, a smile growing on his face.

“It’s not like they’re going to do it,” Kuroo says, then leans forward, closer to Bokuto. “Bro, listen, I can catch them in my mouth. I’m practically a pro.”

“That sounds amazing!” Bokuto full on grins now and stands, ripping open the box of raisins. He tosses one up and Kuroo opens his mouth to catch it, looking ridiculous. It hits his cheek. He quickly picks it up and eats it.

“No, no, you have to arc it,” he explains, using hand motions. “Throw it higher.”

With his eyes better adjusted to the dark of the house, Akaashi has a better look at Bokuto. His hair is all spiked up somehow and his roots have grown in from where he had dyed it some time ago. He looks like an owl, Akaashi concludes. That thought and the fact that he and Kuroo are squabbling about trying to catch raisins in their mouths make Akaashi smile. Before he can get too sentimental, he turns to Kiyoko. She’s rolling her leftover cracker wrapper into a ball.

“Everything really did go well with Daichi?” he asks.

She nods. “Of course, why wouldn’t it?”

He makes no reply. It doesn’t need explaining that the Crows aren’t exactly trustworthy, even if Kiyoko is friendly enough with Daichi.

“We should go,” she says to him, breaking their silence..

He nods. His crackers are all gone, too. It’s not much, but it’ll be enough to keep some of the hunger away until they return.

“Kuroo, we’re leaving,” Kiyoko says, standing up.

Both Kuroo and Bokuto groan. Neither one of them have been successful yet. Every single raisin they’ve tossed has hit the ground. Akaashi cringes at the idea of them being eaten still.

“Akaashi, you have the best toss,” Kuroo says. “One more?” He tries to smile nicely, offering Akaashi the last raisin.

He relents, accepting the last tiny raisin. He gives it a little toss, just over Kuroo’s head, who’s standing with his mouth open wide. It’s high enough for him to get right under it. He catches it and grins.

“See? Every time,” he says to Bokuto, hands on his hips.

“So cool!” Bokuto groans. “Akaashi, will you toss one to me, too?” His eager eyes make him uncomfortable.

Akaashi blinks in his surprise, not expecting Bokuto to be so forward. “There’s none left,” he shrugs and stands to grab his bag.

Bokuto sulks and Kuroo promises him next time. While Akaashi is glad that Kuroo’s made a new friend, he’s hardly sure it’s the right time to be making promises he can’t think of keeping. By the time morning comes, Bokuto will be out of their hands. But he stays silent and joins Kiyoko at the door, waiting for the others to get their things together. For Bokuto, it’s just a jacket. Akaashi wonders if he has anything else that belongs to him here. Even though Daichi hadn’t said much, this doesn’t exactly sound like the returning kind of trip. They hardly are these days. He’s sure Bokuto is being moved to some other complex. Probably related to someone important to the Crows or something like that.

“Ready?” Akaashi asks with raised brows, interrupting the chatter between Bokuto and Kuroo.

“Road trip!” Bokuto exclaims and Kuroo grins.

**———**

It’s not anything like a road trip. At least none that Akaashi can think of to compare to. Of course, that doesn’t exactly mean anything, considering he’s never really been on one.

Curfew has already fallen over the complex and they sneak from wall to wall. Akaashi has to keep shushing Bokuto over his shoulder. While Kuroo can whisper well enough, Bokuto doesn’t seem to have an inside voice. It’s just loud and louder for him. His eyes go wide every time Akaashi mutters his name, as if he had shouted it instead. He quickly murmurs an apology, the most quiet he can get.

The late evening has brought thick clouds rolling in with it. He can feel the itch just under his skin and he knows it’s going to rain soon. The evening is chilly enough without the idea of rain and Akaashi’s not in the mood to be soaked along with it. But, since they’re taking the sewers out of the complex, that’s going to happen rain or no rain. He makes his peace with it.

They come to a stop in one alleyway that’s near the outside of the complex. While Kiyoko checks to see if the coast is clear, Kuroo kneels down to jack open the sewer lid.

“We’re good to go,” Kiyoko says, jogging back over.

Kuroo nods and holds the lid open for everyone to descend below. Kiyoko goes first, a flashlight already in her mouth.

“You next,” Akaashi says to Bokuto.

Bokuto hesitates. He seems surprise at their planned route of sneaking out. But then he blinks and the hesitation is gone. He grins as if this is some grand adventure and follows Kiyoko. Akaashi is next to go down. Then Kuroo, after securing the lid back into place.

For a moment, they sit in darkness, wet up to their knees. Kiyoko already has the flashlight switched on. She leads the way, Kuroo after her. Akaashi keeps a close eye on Bokuto. Even after only knowing him for an hour or so, he doesn’t put it past him to wander off or take a wrong turn on his own. The last thing they need is to lose the thing they’re smuggling, especially since everything seems to be going well so far.

Akaashi casts a glance over at Bokuto. That same grin is on his face and his gaze flickers from one spot to the next, as if the walls have pieces of art hanging on them instead of mold and water stains. It stinks down here, there are probably rats, and the infected are bound to be hidden somewhere, behind some corner. Akaashi just can’t understand what Bokuto’s so happy about.

“What do the Crows even want with you?” he mutters under his breath and the sound of the water they wade through.

“Huh?” Bokuto pipes up, swinging his head to look at Akaashi, but it wasn’t exactly meant for him to hear. Akaashi turns his gaze away, refusing to look at him. Still, he can feel Bokuto’s eyes on the back of his head. Thankfully, after a few minutes he grows bored. “So is Daichi okay?”

Kuroo looks back at them, though his face is silhouetted by Kiyoko’s flashlight. “Yeah, he was getting all patched up. He’ll probably be good as new by tomorrow.”

“There are plenty of doctors and scientists working with the Crows,” Kiyoko adds, peeking around the next corner with her light before stepping out into it. “Being as endangered as they are, they’re doing well for themselves.”

“They’re giving up a lot of what they have just for you,” Kuroo says, casting another look back at Bokuto. “So then, who are you important to?”

“Just the Crows, I guess,” Bokuto says with a shrug.

“That doesn’t mean much these days,” Akaashi says quietly.

Bokuto’s laughs echo off the sewer walls and vibrate in his ears. Akaashi stares at him for a moment. He can’t remember the last time he heard someone laugh that hard. He doesn’t even understand what’s so funny.

“Alright, alright,” Kuroo says. “We’re here.”

Kiyoko shines her flashlight on a ladder and Kuroo starts his way up. “We’re outside of the complex, but still close. It’s risky since they’ll have patrols out, but it’s better than staying down here much longer. We’ve been lucky so far.”

“And what did I say about our luck turning?” Kuroo calls down from halfway up.

“I’d rather not push it.”

She shuts off her light just as Kuroo gets the lid open. The faint light spills in from the night above them, but so does the rain. It sprinkles into the sewer water and ripples out. Akaashi figures they could see better if they had a clear night. He motions Kiyoko to head on up. Once she’s halfway up, he turns to tell Bokuto to go next, but he’s fidgeting, bouncing giddily, and looking up to the cloudy sky.

“What is it?”

“I’m excited,” Bokuto says, shaking his head quickly. “I haven’t been outside the complex since before.”

Since before it happened. He doesn’t need to say it. Five years definitely is a long time to be stuck somewhere. Right then, Akaashi wants to ask Bokuto what happened to him on that night and if anyone had survived with him. He shuts those thoughts down quickly. He doesn’t want to have that conversation for fear it turns around on him. That’s not something he’s quite ready to talk about yet. He doesn’t think he ever will. Swallowing his curiosities down, he gestures toward the ladder.

“You go on, I’ll take the rear.”

Bokuto nods eagerly and scrambles up the ladder much faster than expected. Akaashi follows more slowly, knowing the ladder will be wet and slippery

The rain is cold and makes Akaashi shiver when he emerges and while he hates it, he knows he has to push it to the back of his mind. Kuroo has a hand clapped over Bokuto’s mouth and Kiyoko holds a finger to her lips while she replaces the lid. Akaashi looks past them to see other flashlights moving farther down the alley. Being right outside the perimeter of course there’d be patrols. Akaashi just didn’t expect to run into one right away.

“We’ll have to go around them,” Akaashi whispers, then looks at Bokuto. “No talking.”

Bokuto nods hastily against Kuroo’s hand and gives a thumbs up. Akaashi will have to be satisfied with that and trust that he really will keep his mouth shut. Kuroo seems to believe him because he slowly removes his hand. Bokuto motions a pretend zipper across his lips, locks it, and throws the pretend key over his shoulder. A bit much, but Akaashi will accept it. He moves to take the lead.

This is the closest they’ve ever come to a patrol before and they’ve smuggled their way out of the complex a number of times. Akaashi watches the flicker of flashlights and makes a turn to the right down the next street. Unfortunately, the patrol is directly between them and the way they need to go, if he remembers correctly, and he usually does.

It’s dark and the rain’s not much help. Every accidental splash of a foot in a puddle makes him flinch. He wishes they could use the flashlight again to see where they’re going, but that’s impossible. Even without the military’s current threat, it would be far too risky. At least in those circumstances they wouldn’t have these guards practically breathing down their necks. Akaashi visualizes the layout of the streets and small alleyways. It’s probably best to head in the opposite direction of their destination for now until they can lose sight of this patrol. Then they can loop back around. It risks adding on additional time to the job, but he doesn’t think they have much choice.

“Damn these dead batteries.”

There’s time for a quick inhale of breath before Akaashi bumps right into the guard. Another patrol? The man snaps to attention quickly. He slams the butt of his gun into the side of Akaashi’s head. The hard, wet ground is unforgivable. He cracks his eyes open to see the blurry lights of the other members of the patrol catching up.

“Don’t pull anything funny,” the guard says, his gun now trained on the others. His voice is distant in Akaashi’s ears.

There are only three guards in this patrol, but Akaashi can hardly focus on them, his thoughts spinning around in his head. Had there been more than one patrol out? Did he lead them the wrong way?

“Come on,” says a female guard, “on your knees. Hands up.”

Akaashi slowly pushes himself up. A rough shove from behind gets his hands into the air like the others.

The female guard turns to the other guard who’s still hanging back a ways. He’s probably no more than a kid in his teens. The gun looks shaky in his hands, but at the moment, with his head throbbing, Akaashi can’t bring himself to care all that much. He’s too angry at himself for allowing this job go down the drain so quickly.

“You, call it in,” she says, then to the guard that had attacked Akaashi, “Scan them.” She turns to keep watch down the street.

“We’ve got four stragglers at the southwest end,” the guard says in a reedy voice into his radio.

The other man knocks Akaashi’s head down while he inserts the needle to check his blood. When the little machine clears him, he can’t quite find any kind of relief, even when it clears Kuroo and Kiyoko next. Then it’s Bokuto’s turn. He wonders if he’s ever had his blood tested before. Surely he has, unless he’s really been stuck in District C this entire time.

Before the machine can even finish testing Bokuto’s blood, his arm moves in a blur and suddenly there’s a knife in his hands and he stabs it into the man’s leg. The machine drops to the ground. The guard swears loudly, punching Bokuto in the face and knocking him over.

“What they—” the woman stutters, spinning back around.

Bokuto scurries away quickly on his hands and knees while the man aims his gun at him. He nearly jumps out of his skin when Akaashi shoots the man before he can fire. Kiyoko has the woman as she moves to turn all the way around and Kuroo aims for the last guard who still has the radio raised to his ear. The three shots fire almost instantaneously.

“Fuck,” Kuroo spits.

“You killed them,” Bokuto mumbles, fixated on the guard that had tried to shoot him. “I thought—I don’t know—we’d knock them out or—or something.”

“They already radioed in,” Kiyoko says quickly, ignoring Bokuto. “We have to move.”

But Akaashi doesn’t. He stares down at the machine the guard had dropped.

“Keiji, did you hear me?” Her voice rises.

It’s flashing red and Akaashi bends to pick it up. “What’s this?” he asks quietly. His voice sounds weird in the sudden silence following the gunshots. He holds the machine out and the red illuminates their faces.

“It’s to test for the virus, you know this,” Kiyoko says, growing impatient. She walks over, but freezes when she sees exactly what Akaashi means.

“One of us is infected,” Kuroo says faintly.

Akaashi frowns, shaking his head. “No.” He rounds on Bokuto. “You. You’re the last one they scanned.”

Kuroo’s surprise quickly turns into a scowl. “Daichi set us up.”

“No, no,” Kiyoko says with a shake of her head. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“Then why have us smuggle an infected?” Akaashi counters.

“I’m not!” Bokuto’s voice pipes in and silence falls again. They all face him and he shrinks away, knees drawn up to his chest. “Infected. I’m not—not infected.”

Akaashi drops the machine at Bokuto’s feet.

He holds up his hands, as if they might shoot him right then and there. To be perfectly honest, Akaashi can’t make any promises.

“I can explain, I swear,” Bokuto says, his words rushing out of his mouth. His fingers fumble to roll up the sleeve of his right arm. His mouth opens and closes, but nothing comes out. In the faint light, Akaashi can see it. A bite mark, right on the outside of his wrist and into his palm. It’s been cleaned up, but Bokuto’s definitely been bitten. There’s slight bruising around it and it’s faintly red around the puncture marks, which are white. Akaashi can even make out the dark line of veins underneath skin that goes hand-in-hand with a bite. He’s seen it too many times now. He grits his teeth.

“That’s evidence enough,” he says with finality, cringing inwardly. “Would you rather we shoot you or—”

“It was a month ago,” Bokuto interrupts. “A month!”

“But that impossible,” Kuroo breathes. “People turn within a day, if not hours.”

Akaashi’s about question Bokuto some more when he hears the engines running in the distance, growing close. “Their backup is here,” he says. He takes a quick step forward and grabs Bokuto by the back on his jacket, hauling him up. At the same time, he slides his sleeve back over his bite.

Kuroo turns and sees the lights approaching. “Oh shit, that was fast.”

They sprint off down the opposite street, Akaashi dragging Bokuto along while he tries to get his feet properly under him. Akaashi would just love to address the fact that they now have an infected as part of their group, but the military always seem to get in the way. If the deal’s still on, it’s still their top priority to take care of Bokuto, but at what cost? Akaashi tightens his grip and wonders if he’ll have to shoot Bokuto before the night’s through.

**———**

They skid around a corner and Kuroo wrenches a door open. He gives the interior a quick glance over before motioning to follow him. They’ve lost the other trucks that were tailing them by now. Hopefully they’re far enough beyond the complex that the guards have given up. Akaashi has his doubts, but he really just needs to catch his breath. They all do by the panting that’s filling the silence. Bokuto has plopped himself onto the floor. Kuroo’s doubled over, hands on his knees while Kiyoko has hers on her hips. Akaashi leans back against the door. He’d give nothing more than to slide down and rest for the night, but there’s too much to do. They’re all soaked and freezing in the night’s chill. The rain hasn’t done them any favors. Bokuto’s hair wilts under the damp.

Once his breathing is under control Akaashi looks to Kiyoko. Her eyes flick between him and Bokuto and she nods. Akaashi rubs a hand over his face while Kiyoko approaches Bokuto. He’d rather she do the talking. She can be a bit more sensitive about this kind of stuff. Not that they’ve ever had to deal with this exact scenario before. Even so, Kiyoko’s probably their best bet in getting information out of Bokuto.

“Kuroo, check the building,” Akaashi says quietly and Kuroo replies with a sharp nod. It’s not a big house, but Akaashi doesn’t want anything surprising them. The last thing they need is more infected.

Kiyoko crouches down in front of Bokuto and he watches her, his eyes wary and his shoulders still rising and falling as he tries to regain control of his breathing.

“What was the plan?” Kiyoko starts quietly. Akaashi draws closer to hear better. “Originally, Daichi was going to do this himself. It couldn’t have been a setup.” She glances up at Akaashi, this explanation more directed at him than anyone else. “So we get you to these Crows waiting at the drop-off. Then what?”

“Daichi said—” Bokuto cuts off, squinting his eyes to try and remember. “He said the Crows have doctors somewhere—up north—that’re still trying to find a cure.”

Akaashi frowns at that. “They’ve been saying that for the past five years. It’s nothing new.”

Bokuto looks up at him and holds up his wrist. “They said that this might help find a vaccine,” he mutters quickly before he breaks eye contact with Akaashi. He holds his wrist tightly with his other hand in his lap.

Akaashi snorts. He can’t help himself.

“It’s true!” Bokuto insists, head snapping back up. “I was bit a month ago and I still haven’t turned.”

Akaashi opens his mouth to argue, if the Crows haven’t developed a vaccine in all this time, then they never would, but Kiyoko stands, cutting him off before he can even begin.

“What if it’s true?” Her voice is barely a whisper.

He wants to tell her no. That this is far more than they had bargained for. The risks are too high. It’s best to just go back. Save them the trouble. Tell Daichi to do his own damn smuggling.

“What if?” she asks again, louder this time. “We’re already here. Let’s just—let’s finish the job.”

“The office isn’t too far from here,” Kuroo says, having returned unnoticed. “Look, we know this area. We cut through the museum like we always do and reach the prefectural office around dawn.”

They’ve run through this plan plenty of times before. It’s nothing new. So then it shouldn’t set Akaashi on edge like it does. Letting out a shaky sigh, he says, “Well, there’s no point in sticking around here then, is there? Let’s go.”

He’s barely been able to shake the dampness from his clothes and hair, but they can’t wait around here to dry off. Camping out for the night like this comes with its own risks. They’d have to set up watches. Bokuto wouldn’t be of any help so it would come down to the three of them. Then they wouldn’t reach their destination until early afternoon and Akaashi really doesn’t want to draw this out longer than they have to. The sooner they get Bokuto out of their hands, the better.

Kiyoko takes the lead again and Kuroo motions that he has the rear covered.

“Stick close to us,” Akaashi says under his breath to Bokuto. As he reaches to slide Bokuto’s sleeve back over his wrist again, Akaashi hopes that Bokuto knows that the number of threats has doubled, even tripled, now that they’re officially outside the complex. Patrols are one thing. The infected are another entirely. The further they get, the worse it will be.

The streets are as deserted as they had left them. Kiyoko goes out and holds up a hand, telling them to wait. She stands perfectly still for at least a minute, waiting for any signs of the patrols still tracking them. Finally, she gives them the all clear.

“I hope they’ve all crawled back into the complex,” Kuroo grumbles.

“You can never be too sure,” Kiyoko replies before starting off.

Now that they’re not running for their lives up and down streets, Akaashi realizes this is Bokuto’s first proper glimpse of Shizuoka beyond the complex in five years. He looks at him out of the corner of his eyes. He’s staying silent, which is a blessing. His head swings constantly back and forth, up and down, eyes wide. It makes Akaashi want to look around, too. He tries to imagine what it would be like to see it all for the first time.

The city is in ruins. Cars sit in the streets. Weeds growing out of the cracked concrete and asphalt litter the roads and sidewalks. Old buildings have crumbled to the ground, large pieces of debris blocking entire streets. That’s the reason they have to cut through the Shizuoka Museum of Art. The street beyond it is completely impassable. This is how cities are around any of the military’s complexes, Akaashi figures.

The virus outbreak caught everyone off guard. It was even more devastating coming straight from Tokyo. The military jumped to action, but, for the most part, it was too late. Complexes were set up as best as they could be, sectioning off and quarantining parts of cities like Shizuoka. Then they bombed the rest, which is one way to get rid of the infected. The problem is that they just keep coming back. The only thing the bombing really was good for was giving them time to build the complex and make sure it remained virus free. This also helped depleting the military’s weapon supply, but they don’t tell you that straight up.

Of course, the infected weren’t the only ones killed by the bombs.

Akaashi can’t even be sure of how many other complexes are out there. Large outbreaks happened all across Japan besides Tokyo. Very few places had the warnings that he guesses Shizuoka had.

“Akaashi.”

Even though Bokuto’s voice is soft, he still jumps at the noise.

“What happened here?” He casts his eyes over the ruined city. Akaashi thinks he looks sad, but that could just be a trick of the faint light. At least the rain has let up to a drizzle.

“Military set up quarantine zones and had as many people as they could evacuate to them,” Akaashi explains. “They bombed around that area, where people were trying to survive, to keep the infected away.”

“Large groups draw them in,” Kuroo adds. “But then, we ran out of our big fire power and had to stop.”

“Bombs aren’t always the answer,” Kiyoko says from up ahead. She doesn’t bother turning around.

Kuroo shrugs and decides to change the subject. “So, where the hell were you when you got bit?”

It’s Bokuto’s turn to shrug, an embarrassed grin crossing his face. “I, uh, used to sneak out a lot.”

“Well obviously,” Kuroo snorts.

“Yeah, I went to the Shizuoka Marquise.”

Kuroo’s jaw drops. “What? Bro, that place is completely condemned. So is everywhere beyond Tokai-do.” Then, he smirks. “Bet Daichi was pissed.”

Bokuto’s smile slides off his face as fast as it had appeared. He stares down at his shoes as they continue to walk. “Well, yeah.”

“Bet he was the reason you snuck out in the first place.”

Bokuto nods. “I was out of bounds and got bit. Nothing much to it.”

A guttural screaming echoing in the distance interrupts their conversation.

Bokuto freezes. “What was that?”

Akaashi places a firm hand on his shoulder and pushes him forward to keep moving.

“It sounds pretty far off,” Kuroo says offhandedly. He bumps Bokuto’s shoulder playfully. “No worries.”

“We’ll be fine,” Akaashi murmurs.

Kiyoko points ahead of them. “The museum is right over there.” She spares a look around before motioning with her head. “Let’s hurry inside.”

They jog across the street and up the steps to the building. Their pace is less hurried now that they don’t have anyone chasing them. There’s the fear of the infected lurking behind any corner, but that’s a fear that comes with the day-to-day. Akashi has learned to just force it to the back of his mind. It’s the only way to think rationally.

“Did you hear that?” Kuroo asks in a hushed whisper once they’re inside the museum, wrecking any sense of relief. “While we were outside.”

Akaashi shakes his head.

“There’s more and they’re getting closer,” he continues. “Not a good sign.”

“Then we get through here fast and get to the prefectural building.”

Kiyoko hushes them, her eyes large. “They’re in here, too,” she all but mouths.

“What?”

“They weren’t in here last time.”

“Oh, fuck, this is the last thing we need.”

Kiyoko practically waves her arms to get them to stop what has grown into heated whispered complaints. Kuroo’s face is drawn tight and Akaashi tries to convey to Bokuto with just a look that he really does need to be absolutely silent now. He’s not sure if he’s got the message. Bokuto stares back at him fearfully, but blankly. Akaashi wonders he even heard what they were whispering about.

“Just stay quiet. We’ll get through this fine,” Kiyoko says before starting off again.

They walk more carefully now, watching the sound of the footsteps as they step cautiously. The other sounds, the faint rustlings and shuffling steps, are faint, but it’s clear that the infected are here.

Many of the hallways are blocked. Debris from the ceiling had fallen through years ago. They’re all used to the new layout of the museum, but it’s still unsettling to see a place that used to be so pristine now in ruins. It’s unsettling to know all of Japan, the entire world even, must look like this. Akaashi tries not to think of the big picture. Right now, the only picture he needs to be focused on it the museum and the infected that are now inside it.

“Oh no,” Kiyoko mumbles. They’ve come upon a dead end. This wreckage wasn’t here last time.

Kuroo steps forward. “No worries.” He points to the slight gap near the floor. It’s just on the bottom right side, but they might be able to fit. “I’ll hold it up and you guys can squeeze through.” He grips one of the beams that seems to be holding most of the rubble and heaves upward.

Akaashi can only hope it will hold because there’s no time to argue. He grabs Bokuto and shoves him through first. They’ve just barely reached the other side when the old beam snaps and every thing collapses. His heart drops. The noise is deafening. Akaashi’s head whips around and he can barely make out Kuroo through the cracks.

“We’re okay, we’re okay.”

“We’re fine, too,” Akaashi replies, sparing a quick glance to make sure Bokuto is also unscathed.

“Kuroo, they’ve heard us,” Kiyoko says in a rush. “They’re coming.”

Akaashi struggles to see more on the other side. The sound has alerted the infected, telling them exactly where their group is. He can hear them moving quickly.

Kuroo looks back at Akaashi, a frenzied look in his eyes. “We’ll go around and meet back up.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Akaashi gasps.

There’s no more time for words. They split. He can hear their footsteps fading and sees a least five infected giving chase come into view before he turns away, grabbing Bokuto by the wrist. He doesn’t see any infected on their side, but they can’t be far off. Akaashi scrambles to remember the way through the museum. He just has to trust that Kuroo and Kiyoko will meet back up with them. His top priority now is getting Bokuto out of all this alive.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto gasps from behind. “Slow down.”

Akaashi slows their pace, but only slightly. He forgets that Bokuto isn’t used to running for his life day in and day out. He’s been stuck in the city.

Their hurried footsteps echo in the hallway. But then he hears the infected coming, on this side of the blocked hallway now. So does Bokuto. He freezes for only a second, those owl-like eyes of his going wide before they narrow on Akaashi. This time, he takes Akaashi’s hand and is pulling them away.

Akaashi wants to call him to stop. That Bokuto has no idea where he’s taking them, but something grabbing his backpack diverts his attention. He jerks his elbow back, catching the infected man right in the nose, breaking it. His gun is out then and a bullet knocks the infected to the ground permanently. There’s more behind him, but they quicken their pace, putting more distance between them. There’s too many to fight through with only one gun. He quickens his steps and overtakes Bokuto, steering them down the next hallway instead of continuing straight.

The infected are coming from all sides now. He wishes they hadn’t made so much noise before. Stealth would have been the best way to get through this place, but that’s no longer an option. It couldn’t have been helped anyway. He aims his gun again and shoots the girl directly in front of him twice. Faintly, he swears he can hear Kiyoko and Kuroo.

“Quick, through here,” he says. He rams through the door on their right with his shoulder.

It takes a moment to get oriented in the dark room, but then he sees Kiyoko on the other side. She punches an infected that on her and shoves him away before slamming an old pipe from the ground against his head until it cracks open. Akaashi refrains from looking at the corpse as he rushes over. His mouth fills with questions, but Kiyoko disregards them with a breathless shake of her head.

“I’m fine. Kuroo,” she says still panting. “He’s in there. Hurry.”

They run through the next set of doors. Kuroo’s fighting off two of them at once, but they’re too close for him to get a shot in. Akaashi releases Bokuto and sprints ahead, tackling down one infected, separating it from Kuroo. They tumble to the ground and, scrabbling, Akaashi fights to get on top of it, watching out for its snapping teeth that leak its hot, foul breath. He aims his gun at its head, but when he fires, it’s empty. He only panics for a second though. He smashes the butt of his gun into the infected’s forehead. It’s dirty and he hates the feeling of blood on his hands, but he keeps going until he knows he’s broken through the skull and the body beneath him stills.

He hears a gunshot behind him and Kuroo runs up from behind, helping him to his feet swiftly.

“Exit’s right over there,” he pants, nodding across the room.

They make a break for it. The moaning continues behind them, but they’re through the room in seconds and opening the doors out back. They bang shut behind them and they come to a stop in the back street.

“You don’t think they’ll break out and track us?” Akaashi asks.

Kuroo shakes his head weakly, but it’s not quite believable.

“Is everyone okay?” Kiyoko asks. “No bites?”

Everyone shakes their heads. Akaashi sighs in relief.

“Just had the shit scared out of me, but, hey, we’re all in one piece,” Kuroo says with a growing smile, his old humor coming back quickly like it always does.

Bokuto snickers. “Oh yeah? Better make sure you wipe real good later.”

“Hey!” Kuroo says, giving him a halfhearted push.

“Hey, hey!” Bokuto pushes back.

Amidst their laughter and whatever else they’re doing, Akaashi nears Kiyoko. “How about you? Are you alright?”

She nods. “We just have another block or so to go. Let’s get this done already.”

He smiles a little. She’s usually not so straightforward like that. “Yes, ma’am.”

**———**

The relief that had pooled into his stomach at the sight of the prefectural building evaporates as soon as Kiyoko opens the door.

“Oh no,” she whispers.

And that’s never a good sign.

The rest of them follow her in and Akaashi sees exactly what their new problem is. Actually, he’s not sure what to call is. Problem is too weak of a word for what this is, but his brain’s not working right. Maybe the end of the word, but that’s already happened.

Right inside is a body. There’s blood all over the ground, pooling underneath the man. It’s fresh. It can’t be more than an hour or so old.

Kiyoko immediately hurries over to the body to check it. Surely not for a pulse, Akaashi thinks. The man is clearly dead.

“Now what?” Bokuto asks in a small voice, looking between Akaashi and Kuroo.

Akaashi ignores him and goes directly to Kiyoko, glancing around as he does to be sure that whoever did this still isn’t around. “What are you doing?” he asks. This is the moment when they leave. Fast.

“A map, plans, anything as to where they’re going next.” Her voice is shaky as she talks, even panicky.

 

Sighing, he crouches down next to her. “How much further do you expect to go with this?” he asks.

“As far as we have to,” she replies, still digging through the corpse’s pockets.

“This is it. A dead end, Kiyoko. Now, we go back to Sawamura and have him take it from here. This isn’t our problem anymore.”

Kiyoko ignores him and stands up. She advances on Bokuto who stumbles back a few steps.

“You spoke about the Crows developing a vaccine. Where? They would need a lab or someplace. Do you know where it is, Bokuto?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. Something akin to realization flashes across his eyes. “Daichi never said,” he starts slowly. “All I know is that they have a lab up north.”

Kiyoko holds a fist to her lips, thinking hard. Akaashi glances at Kuroo for answers, but he only shrugs. He gets to his feet.

“What’s going on?” he asks Kiyoko. She’s making no sense. They never get invested in a job like this. Sure, Bokuto’s immune and that probably means something to someone, but not them. A cure is way above their heads. Their focus has always been surviving. It started day to day, then by weeks. They’re finally in a decent spot. This is the point in the job where they go back. Explain to Daichi and expect partial reward. It makes much more sense to backtrack than to push on blindly.

“I hate this,” she whispers, and Akaashi can barely make out her words. “To live we have to do awful things and we’re awful because of that, Keiji. I don’t want it.”

Akaashi sighs again and decides to take it slow. “That doesn’t make us awful people. We survive. That’s what we’ve been doing. This is no different.”

“Akaashi’s right,” Kuroo says, stepping in. “We go back, regroup, and start again tomorrow. It’ll be fine, Shimizu. You’re worrying too much.”

“Please, Kiyoko. Let’s just go home.”

Kiyoko looks at both of them in turn before settling her gaze on Akaashi. “I’m not—I can’t—this is it,” she stutters and looks away. “Our luck had to run out sooner or later.”

“Oh,” Bokuto says with the tiniest gasp. Akaashi turns and looks at him. “She’s infected.”

It’s silent. Light from the morning sun filters in through the rundown building’s windows. Akaashi’s ears feel numb as he looks back at Kiyoko. It feels as if the floor beneath him has tilted. He tries to clear the cotton from his head. But there’s only one question swirling around and around and as much as he tries to ignore it, he can’t. Is she going to ask him to shoot her? No, no, no.

Not again.

Not this again.

“Where?” he croaks out at last.

Slowly, Kiyoko’s hand drifts up to the collar of her tracksuit jacket. She peels it away and right there, where her neck meets her shoulder, is the bite, still glistening and bloody and raw. Akaashi’s stomach plummets and he can’t control his feet when they send him back a few steps.

Cautiously, she covers it back up and slowly goes over to Bokuto. She pulls out his wrist and pulls the sleeve back, delicately, as if his arm might shatter.

“A month,” she murmurs. “It’s the real thing. Mine’s already worse.”

And she’s right. It’s been less than an hour and the two bites can hardly compare. She looks back up to Akaashi.

“Iwaizumi,” she says though her lips barely move. “He used to do work with the Crows.”

“Years ago. That’s—”

“That is your best bet,” Kiyoko interrupts. “He’ll know where to go. You have to get him there, Keiji.”

Akaashi starts shaking his head. “No, no—the Crows were your choice. You and Iwaizumi and Kuroo,” he glances at the other man before his eyes are on Kiyoko again, “you guys chose the Crows—chose whatever this is.”

He wants to go home.

“For me, Keiji.”

Oh Konoha, he thinks, I want to go home. This is too much.

“I know it’s a lot to ask.”

They’re always asking for something. Who is he to deny it?

He can hear the trucks rolling up outside. It keeps him from answering. He doesn’t even have to think about it, everything’s already piecing itself together. The military killed the Crow they were meeting, possibly tracked him from the very beginning. Now they’ve come to clean up.

“Let me give you time to get out of here,” Kiyoko says while taking out her gun. “You’ll have to hurry.”

Akaashi grabs her arm. “I’m not leaving you here.”

She meets his eyes and he knows that she can see that old fear inside of him. “Let me do this,” she whispers to him. “I get it, Keiji, but there’s no other option. Go.” She shoves him away. Bokuto takes a few steps toward Akaashi.

“I’ll stay, too.”

They turn to look at Kuroo. He clears his throat.

“To make sure—” His voice cuts off, but his hand gestures do the talking for him.

“Is this a good idea?” Akaashi questions, latching onto this. Anything to stop thinking.

Kuroo shrugs. “I’ll help give you guys a head start then circle back around to the complex. I need to pick up a few things and I’ll meet you in Tozawa. I swear.”

“No time to argue,” Kiyoko says, giving Akaashi another push away from them. He can hear the men yelling outside, telling them to come out. He hopes there aren’t too many.

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto whispers as he passes by. “I’m sorry.”

Akaashi stares at Kiyoko as he steps backwards before he turns completely.

**———**

If there is anyone who doesn’t deserve the apocalypse, it’s Kiyoko. If anyone deserves to be happy, to live a long life, Kiyoko deserves it. Akaashi remembers it was when he was just beginning the second half of his first year of high school. Kiyoko had graduated from university early the winter before and was getting married that summer. Their parents were so proud. Kiyoko was ready to start her successful life, well deserved after her studies. Then, not even a year into their marriage, there was the cancer the doctors found in Shimizu’s brain. Before the year was up, he was gone and Kiyoko had moved south. Another year passed and Akaashi hadn’t heard from her. But then he was graduating and she returned home to celebrate, bringing her new girlfriend, Yachi, with her. Again, their parents were pleased and Akaashi could finally release the breath he felt he had been holding for all of high school. He would be going to Tokyo for university, not too far from home and Kiyoko finally seemed happy again, more herself. Akaashi could relax. It seemed they all could.

But then February 16th happened. All of that went straight down the drain. Akaashi ended up alone in Shizuoka a couple of months later and it was only from knowing Kuroo that he was able to be reunited with his sister. She was the last of his family when he thought he’d never see any of them ever again. But she was alone.

She mentioned it once and only after he had asked. It took her nearly a year to be able to talk about it. Complete chaos had broken out, just like what he had witnessed in Tokyo. Innocent and fragile, Yachi hadn’t stood a chance. They had been separated. Kiyoko had fought so hard to get back to her. When Yachi was found, she had been trampled by the crowd. They never spoke about it again.

**———**

They’re nearly to the top of the staircase when the doors are broken down and the guns start firing. Akaashi leaps to the top and pushes Bokuto below the banister. He risks glancing over when the shots start to slow.

Kiyoko’s body is limp on the ground, not far from the unknown Crow. Kuroo’s nowhere to be found.

Akaashi’s breaths come short. He braces himself against the banister and tries not to think. His sister is dead. She’s dead. His family is gone now. He’s shaking, but he can’t stop. She looks exactly like he had, sprawled out, and so much blood. Even when Konoha had only been shot once, when Akaashi had shot him, there had been so much blood.

A hand clamps over his trembling knee. “Akaashi, they’re coming.”

And Akaashi has to pull himself together. He pushes it down—pushes it all down. His eyes open. The men below are starting to span out. He takes a second to hope that Kuroo got away before figuring out an escape plan.

“Backdoor,” he says. “There has to be a backdoor.”

Nothing really makes sense. Akaashi doesn’t understand how they move back down another flight of stairs and find the door. He doesn’t understand how they avoid the military, so set on exterminating the Crows. Has their luck really turned this time? But he thinks of Kiyoko and Konoha. No, he never really had any luck to begin with. How do his legs carry him block after block? Is he leading them? Or is Bokuto?

Finally, his legs do give out near the outskirts of Shizuoka.

Akaashi’s vision goes blank for a second, now that the adrenaline has left his body. He runs his hands over his sweaty face and at some point he realizes he has sat down on the ground. Bokuto stands at a distance, eyes wide. They’re both breathing hard. Bokuto’s mouth opens and closes like a suffocating fish as he searches for the right words to say.

“I’m so sorry about—”

“Don’t,” Akaashi interrupts, lowering his hands and fixing Bokuto with a glare. Bokuto looks as though Akaashi had struck him. “Don’t talk about her.” He sniffs and rubs his nose furiously. “Don’t bring her up again.”

“But I—”

Akaashi’s intense stare shifts to the dirt under his feet. “You’re immune,” he mumbles thickly before raising his voice. “You don’t understand what it’s like. You don’t understand the terror that you might be infected. We live that every day. Every time they test my blood, I wonder if I’ll end up infected this time.” He pauses, trying to catch his breath. “I’ve known too many people that should’ve been immune. There were too many that had to die because they were bit.” He looks up at Bokuto who has flinched further away, staring at Akaashi open mouthed. “But you get to be immune. Out of everyone, you’re the one that’s immune. What about them? What about Kiyoko or Konoha?”

“Who—”

Akaashi gets to his feet, silencing Bokuto. “I’d rather they were immune."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually surprised I was able to get this done in time. It's the longest chapter so far and it had it's own challenges to write. I really hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> I also wanted to thank everyone who has left kudos and commented and whatever else! Completely serious, it helps a lot. So thank you!
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](http://youtube.com/watch?v=AKpda9KVRXI)


	4. A Car, A Torch, A Death

Tozawa had always been the end destination, the goal. It’s only fitting that it comes back now, haunting Akaashi’s every footstep that he takes down this long deserted road leading away from Shizuoka. It’s been hours since their first stop. Each minute has been weighed down by the silence. It feels more like weeks have passes yet it’s only afternoon.

Iwaizumi had sworn five years ago that he’d get them to Tozawa. And, to Akaashi, it had been a good plan. Of course, back then, Akaashi would have followed Iwaizumi anywhere. He had seemed like the only one in their small group to have his head screwed on straight. But then the worst happened. Looking back on it now, it should have been expected. Looking back, it was doubtful that they all would have made it out of Tokyo alive. Akaashi knows that, but then, he’s different now.

Out of all of them, Iwaizumi was the only one to have made it to Tozawa. To Akaashi’s knowledge, he’s still there. Akaashi knows what’s in Tozawa now. Iwaizumi would never leave. That makes Tozawa next on the map.

At least in the big picture.

“We need to make a stop before we head north,” Akaashi says, not looking back. His voice is rusty from enforcing the quiet. Bokuto had tried to talk in the beginning, but Akaashi had quickly shut him down by refusing to answer.

“Where at?” Bokuto asks eagerly, moving easily from the silence to a new conversation.

Akaashi stares determinedly down the road. “Not far. Just a few more miles.”

It’s just the next town over. They’re close enough now that he can see a faint trail of smoke lifting up from the direction they walk. Sighing appreciatively, Akaashi keeps it in sight. The smoke is the best way to know where to go.

“And it’s best if you keep your condition to yourself,” Akaashi adds. “We don’t need that kind of attention. Anyone in their right mind would probably just shoot you.”

Bokuto nods sullenly, mood shifting again, and doesn’t reply. Akaashi is grateful for the silence again, but it’s like a double-edged sword. He can’t help thinking about what he had said to Bokuto. He wants to shake it out of his head, forget about it, but it’s like an annoying insect buzzing around his head. It’s clear Bokuto is not acting normally, trailing dejectedly behind in the silence. Still, Akaashi pushes it off to deal with later. Knowing Bokuto, he’ll forget and be back to his bouncing and excitable self.

**———**

“So what’re we doing here?” Bokuto asks, finally gather his nerve to speak. They’ve just walked into town, similar to Shizuoka, only smaller.

“I know someone here,” Akaashi replies, looking around carefully. “His name is Ukai. We worked with his grandfather for a while and now we work with him. Got him out of a tight spot last fall. He owes me.”

Bokuto picks his way through the fallen bricks from an old building. “What happened to his grandfather?”

“Shot himself,” Akaashi says dryly.

Bokuto stops and looks up. “Oh.” His gaze falls back to the ground after a second as he continues, making sure he doesn’t trip over anything.

They carry on down through the town, Akaashi sticks to the middle of the street where there’s less rubble while Bokuto takes the sidewalk, glancing in every window. His mood has suddenly changed again, just like Akaashi predicted. He hums and makes small sound effects under his breath. At one point, he creeps along the side of a building before springing out at the corner. Nothing’s there, but he pretends to shoot something with a finger gun.

“Hey, Akaashi?”

Akaashi glances over as he walks to see that Bokuto has stopped walking.

“You think we could look around and find some supplies?” Bokuto asks, unable to mask the hope in his voice.

“No,” Akaashi says. “That’s what we’re going to Ukai for. Besides, the military complex is close by. I’m sure they’ve already cleaned this place out. Either that or Ukai has. Why?”

Bokuto hangs his head. “Nothing,” he mumbles.

This time, Akaashi stops. “What?”

“I wanted to find some hair gel.” Bokuto runs his fingers through his hair, standing them up until they fall limply back into place. Whatever he had in it to make it stand up the other day had been washed out by the rain.

“It looks fine,” Akaashi mutters as he starts walking again. There’s nothing he can do for Bokuto’s hair anyway and it’s not like he should be worried about hairstyles in their current situation. Maybe in the complex and if Daichi wasn’t around, but Akaashi’s first instinct is to doubt that. He wonders how Bokuto had styled it the day they met. That odd way it spiked up, making him look like a great horned owl.

After Akaashi’s silence has stretched out long enough, Bokuto goes back to running around again. He pulls some cartwheels and jumps back and forth, as if trying to dodge something. He’s like a dog off the leash for the first time. Suddenly, he stops again, attention grabbed.

“Whoa, Akaashi!” he gasps loudly, nearly jolting Akaashi right out of his skin. Here comes Bokuto’s loud voice again. “A movie theater!” He runs over and plants his face against the glass, cupping is hands around his eyes to get a better look inside.

Akaashi huffs in exasperation, but walks over. The things he said earlier keep him from pulling Bokuto away. He casts a quick glance inside.

“They’re all movies from five years ago,” he observes.

“So cool!” Bokuto exclaims.

Akaashi leans back against the large window, having looked his fill of the past. “Did you see any?”

“No,” he says with a shake of his head, ruffling his hair up. “I wasn’t allowed. Did you?” He looks over at Akaashi, a big lopsided smile on his face.

Akaashi shrugs and doesn’t meet his eyes. It doesn’t matter though. Something else has already distracted Bokuto again.

“Look, look! Deadpool!” He points inside at one of the movie posters. He groans, hands clenched in his hair. “I really wanted to see that one! I read like all the comics.”

“I saw it,” Akaashi says quietly. Then, as if realizing he had spoken aloud, his eyes go wide and he starts back down the street again.

“Really?!” Bokuto cries, running after him. “How was it? Was there a lot of blood? I saw the trailer! He shot through like three guys’ heads! That made it into the film, right? How was Ryan Reynolds? I heard they showed his d—”

“It was fine,” Akaashi says loudly over Bokuto, cutting off his endless stream of questions.

Bokuto peers at him closely now that they’re walking side-by-side. Akaashi uncomfortably sidesteps away.

“You don’t seem like the type who’d like movies like that,” Bokuto says at last.

“Really,” he says indifferently. He’d give anything not to talk about this. Why did he have to go and open his mouth? But Bokuto is right. Akaashi wouldn’t have gone to see the movie if Konoha hadn’t been so excited for it in the first place. He was practically bouncing off the walls like Bokuto the day Akaashi offered to take him.

“Yeah! Who’d you go see it with?”

Akaashi stops in the middle of the street. “Let’s just keep our backstories to ourselves,” he says, looking ahead. Giving Bokuto no time to respond right away, he begins walking again. Bokuto hurries to catch up. “Okay, Bokuto?”

“Sure thing!” he quips.

It’s about five minutes before Bokuto speaks again, his voice bright and happy.

“So where were you the night it happened?”

“Bokuto.”

“Oh, right. Sorry!”

Akaashi can’t help smirking at Bokuto, so eager to continue the conversation now that Akaashi is willing. Finally free from Shizuoka, maybe the past really is all he can think of. He decides the best way to keep the conversation from returning there is to talk about what they need to do here.

“I’m low on bullets so we’re going to have to proceed carefully.” He’s fortunate that there’s extra ammo in his backpack. He doesn’t want to risk trying to make it to Ukai’s without a gun.

“So, where do you normally meet this Ukai friend of yours?” Bokuto asks as Akaashi leads them left, away from the main street.

Akaashi shrugs. “Different places. Usually in Shizuoka.”

“So you’ve never been here before?” Bokuto smirks and Akaashi scowls.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been out of Shizuoka, but I know this is where he lives,” he says. Ukai never would have put up with the soldiers back in the compound. Akaashi clears his throat and looks over at Bokuto. “I’m hoping Ukai can get a car for us. Tozawa is pretty far north.”

Bokuto kicks absently at a rock, but he perks up at the mention of a car. “You can drive?”

Frowning, Akaashi nods.

“Lucky,” Bokuto huffs, hanging his head. “And this guy you know in Tozawa is going to help us?”

“Yes. His name is Iwaizumi.”

“And you know him how?” Bokuto drawls out.

Akaashi hesitates before he answers, “We were friends, from before.” He coughs awkwardly. “But, more importantly, he worked with the Crows. He would know where to take you.”

“Oh,” Bokuto mumbles.

“In here,” Akaashi says, opening a door to an old arcade.

Bokuto brightens. “Seriously?”

Nodding, he says, “We have to cut through.” He can already see that up ahead is a dead end. He opens the door and Bokuto rushes past him. “Be careful,” Akaashi calls after him, but it’s unlikely he’s heard. He glances over the arcade looking and listening for any hint of infected. Bokuto’s running about makes it hard to hear. Akaashi keeps his gun out and proceeds carefully. Bokuto has the luxury of treading freely, Akaashi thinks, but he quickly shakes that idea out of his head. He continues searching around as he walks down the aisles of games.

What used to be filled with color is now dim and desolate. The bright images on the games and walls have long faded over the years. The machines themselves sit dead with their blank screens, some cracked.

Bokuto goes back and forth between them in his excitement. He cries out, fingers hovering over the old controls. He’s making enough noise that if there were any infected in the building, they would have to know by now. Akaashi lowers his gun.

“Did you play any of these?” he asks, approaching Bokuto.

Bokuto shakes his head, pushing a couple of buttons before glancing at Akaashi. “Not often, but sometimes I’d go with some friends to an arcade in Shizuoka after school. I’d save up for days.” He grins fondly back down at the machine he’s standing in front of. “One of our favorites was Bishi Bashi. It was great because we could all play together! They really liked Arcana Heart, probably because of the girls. And then there was Battle Blaze! My one friend was really great at that one. Always getting the high score on quest. It’s about this guy who’s trying to avenge his father and defeat the dark lord. He’d always yell the character’s cool catchphrases.” Bokuto pauses for a moment, smiling widely down at the game. “I wish we could still play it!”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says before he can continue with more stories.

“Yes?” he asks, his head jerking up to meet Akaashi’s eyes, his own owlish eyes no longer reflecting the past.

Akaashi swallows nervously, but ploughs ahead anyway. “I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It was extremely rude and I didn’t mean it. I’m glad that you are immune.” He bows ever so slightly, staring at his shoes. “Please, forgive me.”

It takes a second, but Bokuto laughs, clapping Akaashi on the shoulder, nearly making him stumble forward. “Akaashi! Of course I do!” He slings his arm around Akaashi’s shoulders and leads them down the row of games. His voice turns serious as he continues. “I keep forgetting what everyone has suffered. And it’s huge! I can’t even wrap my mind around it. And I meet people and I forget sometimes how much they’ve lost.”

Akaashi can’t help but to stare, even though Bokuto’s not even looking at him. He’s close enough that he can see those eyes cloud over with memories of his own loss and there’s that one second that he wishes he knew. But no, those are better left a mystery. He flinches when Bokuto suddenly turns his way and grins. The sun in his smile is so close, Akaashi feels as though his skin may burn with its intensity.

“But then I got to get out of Shizuoka with you, Akaashi!” he says. “That’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me!”

He’s at a loss for words. In a blur, his mind goes through everything that has happened in the twenty-four hours that he has known Bokuto. It hasn’t exactly been pleasant. For Bokuto to say that—

But Bokuto is already walking away, leaving Akaashi behind. He stops by the door at the back of the arcade.

“So we go through here, right?”

Akaashi nods. “We have to be getting close now so just watch out.”

Bokuto swings the door open and looks back. “Watch out for what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. People do crazy things to protect themselves, especially living alone.”

“Wait.” Bokuto backtracks and turns fully. “He’s living alone?”

Akaashi shrugs. “The last I heard from him, he was. Why?”

Bokuto shrugs right back. “I dunno, seems lonely.”

He turns back around to step out the door. Akashi sees it at the last second. Lunging forward, he grabs the back of Bokuto’s jacket and hauls him back. They both tumble to the ground. Bokuto immediately pops up to his knees, searching wildly about.

“What is it?” he asks in a rush. “What happened?”

Akaashi sighs in relief. “Trip wire.” He nods to the wire that’s strung up low just beyond the doorframe. “Ukai’s by the looks of it.”

Bokuto’s face splits into a smile. “What a coincidence! You just mentioned that.”

“I did and you almost triggered it.”

Stammering for words, Bokuto’s face flushes and he puffs out his cheeks in annoyance. “Akaashi!”

“Shh,” Akaashi hushes, smiling faintly. “Just watch where you step from now on, okay?” He allows Bokuto to help him to his feet. “It’s a good sign. We’re getting close.”

The back alley shows proof enough that they’ve entered the space Ukai has taken up as his own. There are plenty of messages sprayed over the walls and none of them friendly. It almost reminds him of Shizuoka, only these all come from Ukai. They’re all in the same messy scrawl. Painted in a hurry.

_NO TRESSPASSORS!_

_You will be shot on sight_

_GO AWAY_

_No help here!_

Bokuto mumbles them aloud as they pass each, moving further into Ukai’s territory. Every so often they’ll find a body as well. Akaashi only spares them a quick glance. Most look to be infected. He doesn’t bother pointing them out to Bokuto.

“Traps…warnings,” Bokuto lists off. “Your friend’s not very friendly, is he?”

Akaashi settles his hand on the doorknob to the back of an old garage. It’s the best way to get out of these backstreets. “We’re not really friends.”

The late afternoon sun spills in through broken windows on the other side of the door, but something feels off. Akaashi takes a step inside before he sees it. He squints through the light.

“What the—”

But he’s yanked off of his feet before he can figure out why exactly a refrigerator is hanging in the middle of the room. It’s only after he’s hanging upside down that he realizes. He tries to focus on the room, but his own momentum swings him around and everything is spinning. He’s going to be sick.

Steady hands brace his shoulders and bring him to a stop. He immediately latches onto the support. Anything to keep him from swinging around again.

“What was that?” Bokuto asks breathlessly, his surprise shining in his eyes that are just inches away from Akaashi’s own.

“Ukai,” Akaashi grumbles, glancing around. That banged up refrigerator rotates lazily, now a lot closer to the floor. The room is much more open than he had originally thought. Garage doors are either pulled up or missing entirely. From this side, it looks less like a garage and more like a small warehouse building for scraps. The area in front of it looks fenced in, but there are holes.

Akaashi feels his skin itch and it has nothing to do with hanging here by a rope. It’s far too open of a place to be stuck in. There’s no protection. They have to get out of this fast.

Seeing his attention has shifted beyond him, Bokuto releases Akaashi and makes to move away. Akaashi’s eyes snap to him, nervous again as he starts to wobble on his own. He grabs Bokuto’s shirt with both hands.

“No, wait,” he says and his voice shakes as much as he tries to stay calm. It’d be different if he weren’t hanging by a goddamn rope. Bokuto’s hands return to his sides and keep him steady.

“What do I need to do?” Bokuto asks.

Akaashi tries not to focus on the relief pooling in his stomach at the sound of Bokuto’s unwavering voice. If he does, he’ll probably just end up vomiting. He takes a deep breath and regains control.

“The refrigerator,” he says. “It has to be the counterweight. You need to—”

“Cut it down,” Bokuto assures with a smile. “Got it. I’m going to let you go. Is that okay?”

There’s really no other option, but Akaashi appreciates the concern. He nods. “You’ll have to.”

Bokuto lets him go as gently as possible, reducing the rope’s movement as it carries Akaashi’s weight. He hurries over to the refrigerator. It’s low enough for him to jump on top of it. He kneels down and takes out his knife.

Akaashi feels his breaths coming in gasps. His face is hot and sweaty. He tries not to think of the blood rushing to his head. It’s thick rope, but surely it’ll only take Bokuto a second. He tries not to move an inch, keeping his arms rigid above his head, keeping his eyes on the outside.

He hears them before he sees them. So does Bokuto.

“Akaashi!”

They’re clawing at the fence, which is barely holding up as it is. Slowly, Akaashi reaches for his gun.

“Keep cutting,” he calls to Bokuto. “I’ll cover us.”

One comes running in. Akaashi doesn’t even know where it came from, but he’s shooting, trying to keep his aim straight. Another breaks through the fence. He gets it before it can come much further.

“Bokuto!” he gasps. “How’s it coming?”

Bokuto glances up quickly before back at the rope he’s sawing. “It’s coming!” he stammers, though it doesn’t sound very reassuring.

More are rushing through the fence where it’s fallen. As Akaashi shoots, he curses Ukai under his breath. Even when plans go wrong, this isn’t what he imagines.

The rope spins him around and he’s staring at the other side of the building, face-to-face with more infected, but losing sight of Bokuto. He shoots them down, wishing he wasn’t wasting so many bullets. He’s fired a gun far more times than he ever thought he would back when things were normal. Until yesterday, he would’ve even said that he was a good shot. And he is. He’s just never done it fucking upside down.

With those infected taken care of, he swings his arms, trying to rotate back around. He hears Bokuto yell out.

Finally, he can see. Three infected paw at the refrigerator. They move so fast. Why couldn’t they stumble about slowly like the zombies on old television shows? It takes seven shots to bring them down. That’s more bullets than Akaashi’s willing to give to the infected. He turns his attention to those in the yard now that there’s no immediate danger. Most are still stuck behind the fence, too dumb to find the openings. Akaashi’s not complaining.

“Got it!” Bokuto’s call cuts through his concentration. Akaashi only gets a second to prepare himself for the fall, tucking his head in as his shoulders meet hard concrete. “Akaashi! Watch out!”

The infected falls down on him. He must’ve come from behind, where Akaashi had thought was clear. He kicks himself mentally and tries to force the thing off him. As he shoves the head up, a gun goes off and the infected goes limp, old blood dripping from its head. Quickly, Akaashi rolls the body off of him and gets to his feet.

Glancing around, he sees Ukai across the way.

“Well, come on then,” he yells before running off.

Akaashi checks to make sure Bokuto’s nearby before following. “Go,” he says, pushing Bokuto to go in front of him. Outside the building, he turns right, but Ukai’s already knocking Bokuto back. He shoots, but quickly runs after Bokuto, overtaking him to lead.

“What a shitty day,” Akaashi hears him mumble as he passes.

Akaashi hurries to keep up, his head still spinning. “That was a risky shot,” he says to Ukai.

The older man takes down another infected before continuing down the street. “Would you rather I saved it for your sorry ass?” he calls back. “After you were bitten of course, which you would’ve been.”

“Is this really the time?” Bokuto asks, glancing between them both.

Akaashi can’t disagree, but that’s just how Ukai always is. He turns to fire at the infected still tailing them. Grumpy.

Ukai opens a heavy metal door and once they’re all inside, slams it shut. He flips the five locks on the other side, the infected groaning outside, before he turns his gun on Akaashi.

“Whoa!” Bokuto calls out, trying to step in front of him, but Akaashi steps away, not breaking eye contact with Ukai. Calmly, he raises his hands. He knows this drill, but clearly Bokuto does not.

“Any bites?” Ukai demands, checking Akaashi’s arms and looking for any other wounds. “Anything?”

Paranoid as ever.

Bokuto hovers around Akaashi, but Ukai shoves him to the side when he gets in the way, causing him to squawk.

Akaashi swats Ukai’s hands away. “I’m fine, Ukai. Not bites. Nothing.”

“Then what the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing here?” Ukai snaps, gun lowering, but not gone from his hand. “You set off my traps, intrude into my home, and who the hell is this punk?”

“I’m hear because of last fall,” Akaashi says, casting an arm out to keep Bokuto back. “And I apologize, but we only set off one trap.”

Ukai scowls and walks away. “So what? You’re here for favors then? Is that it?”

“You owe me,” Akaashi says more forcefully now.

“We need a car,” Bokuto pipes in.

Ukai turns slowly. “You need a _what_?”

“A car!” Bokuto says, louder this time. “You owe Akaashi. We need a car.”

Laughing, Ukai spreads his arms wide. “Well look around, take your pick. You can see I have cars coming out of my ass.”

Bokuto glances around, but they’re just in a storage room.

“Look, whatever I owe you, it can’t add up to that,” Ukai says to Akaashi.

Frowning, Akaashi draws closer. “It does. You know it does.”

Ukai sighs. “It doesn’t matter anyhow. I don’t have a car.”

“But this town is filled with them. You said last time—”

“That there are parts,” Ukai interrupts, “but I’m not a fucking mechanic.”

Akaashi raises his brows and crosses his arms over his chest. Seeing this, Bokuto plants his hands on his hips and tries to look smug behind him.

“I’ve worked with you for too long,” he huffs. “Alright, I might be able to put something together, but we have to stop by my place a few streets over.”

“That’s fine.”

As they move to the door, Ukai catches his arm. “And after this? I owe you nothing. We’re done.”

**———**

They walk through the gate of a churchyard. Ukai closes it again and Akaashi can see the pros of living in a place like this. The fence is strong and sturdy, made from iron, and tall. Good enough to keep out any infected. The church itself was built with an older aesthetic in mind with stones and a tall steeple. It’s small, but perfect for one man to make his home in the apocalypse.

Ukai walks along the side of the church and opens up the cellar doors. “In here,” he says as he leads the way down. “Shut the doors behind you, Akaashi. And you, don’t touch anything.

Bokuto casts an offended look over his shoulder at Akaashi.

“I have a name, you know,” he calls, but Ukai’s already heading off to light the candles in the room. The light’s faint, but it beats fumbling around in the dark.

“Yeah? Well I’m not going to know you long enough to use it,” he replies. “And I mean it. Don’t touch a thing.”

Frustrated, Bokuto throws his arms out. “It’s Bokuto.”

“Calm down,” Akaashi whispers before turning to Ukai. “I’m low on ammo.”

Ukai waves him off. “Yeah, yeah, take what you need. The last thing I need is someone covering me with no bullets.”

Bokuto approaches as well, but Akaashi stops him.

“What?” he pouts. “I need a gun, too.”

“No, you don’t.” Akaashi figures the last thing Bokuto needs is a gun. He doubts Bokuto has any experience with a gun and he’d rather fool himself in believing that Bokuto doesn’t need it.

“But I can help!”

“Just wait over here.”

Bokuto huffs angrily and walks away. “Whatever.”

Ukai barks out a laugh. “This has to be the worst job you’ve ever taken,” he says to Akaashi.

Akaashi shrugs, going through the weapons Ukai has stored up. He’s quite the scavenger. Akaashi can’t help feeling slightly impressed. It’s a sight for sore eyes considering how empty his own gun feels.

“And how the fuck is Kiyoko on board with this? I mean, Kuroo I can imagine, but Kiyoko? She at least has a good head on her shoulders. Kept you two straight all this time.”

“It was her idea actually,” Akaashi mutters.

Ukai scoffs. “Really?” He grabs a shotgun to check. “Well, it’s suicide. That kid is going to get you killed. You’re better off returning him.”

“I can’t take him back.”

“Then ditch him.” He pauses and jabs a finger at Akaashi’s chest. “I know you, Akaashi. Believe me, you’d be better off.”

Akaashi doesn’t respond. Instead, he decides to go through his backpack. He knows they’re low on supplies. This would be the best time to stock up, especially while Ukai is offering.

“Alright, listen to me. Once I had someone that _I_ cared for. A partner—what have you. Anyway, I looked after him. Hell knew he needed it. But you know what I found out?” He loads the shotgun with a little more force than necessary. “That shit’s only good for getting you killed.”

“Your grandfather?” Akaashi questions.

He slams the gun down. “Fuck no. That shitty old man was stupid enough to get bit while I wasn’t here.” He pauses. “No, this was someone else. Anyway, you have to be fucking sensible in this world. Realistic. It’s better on your own. No one to make mistakes. No one to trust other than yourself. And really, Akaashi, who else can you trust besides yourself?”

Akaashi hesitates, flipping the zipper around on his backpack. “Ukai, it’s not like that.”

“Fuck you,” he mutters. “It’s always like that. He’ll make one mistake and then it’s—” he fires an imaginary gun into his head “—to the both of you.”

Grimacing, Akaashi goes to respond, but Ukai cuts him off.

“Hey! I told you not to touch anything!”

Akaashi looks over to see Bokuto take a quick step away from a stack of magazines, CD tapes, and other junk. He pointedly stares away from Ukai.

“I wasn’t—I was just—” He gestures his arms at the pile, making no further effort to explain himself.

“Don’t. Touch. My. Stuff.”

Crossing his arms tightly over his chest, Bokuto turns away to pout again.

“Good luck babysitting,” Ukai says, shoving a gun at Akaashi. “Can’t wait for you to come crawling back here telling me how it all went horribly wrong.”

“Ukai,” Akaashi says with exasperation. “Please. Stop. Can we just get this over with?”

Straightening, Ukai falls silent. Akaashi thinks he’s about to blow up at him again and prepares himself.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” he says, throwing Akaashi’s words back at him.

Ukai heads back over to the stairs, blowing out the candles as he does. Right before he heads up, he turns to look at Akaashi and Bokuto.

“Okay, so every other week or so those soldiers from your neck of the woods come rolling through town, searching for supplies. Been doing it for years now, but they always seem to pass over the good stuff. That’s besides the point. Anyway, last time they were in town, the infected were being particularly active. One of the trucks goes out of control and drives right into the side of the old junior high. Still there, too.”

“So you think it will have the parts we need?” Akaashi asks.

“It’ll have a working battery.”

“And we put that in another car?”

Ukai grins. “That’s what I’m thinking,” he says. “I would’ve gone myself days ago, but there are too many infected in that part of town. But Akaashi needs a car, so that’s what we’re going to get. Besides, having an extra gun never hurt.”

“And what was that you were saying how you’re better off alone?” Akaashi asks with a smirk.

“Oh, shove it.”

Outside, the sun is setting, creating an orange glow to the town laid out in front of them. It would almost seem peaceful, but Akaashi can see movement down the street and he knows that that’s the way they need to go by the way Ukai starts off.

“The school’s just a few blocks away. The infected like to nest in it, but if we want that battery then it’ll have to be worth the risk,” Ukai says as they go. “If we’re careful, maybe, just maybe, we can sneak in and out and be done with it.”

They pass three infected further down the street. Luckily, they’re preoccupied by some old remains. They eat hungrily and loudly. It’s enough to allow their group to pass by unnoticed.

The road up ahead opens up to the main street. Across is the middle school. It sits like a corpse beyond an old chain link fence, empty and beaten. There’s barbed wire rolled at the top, allowing no way to climb over. However, there are three school buses parked out front. One had been driven right into the fence. While not enough to break it, it’s one way to get in. Akaashi doesn’t want to think about what had happened here when the infected came, when everything from the old life had to be dropped and left behind.

The only things keeping it from being an easy trip over the fence are the infected roaming the street. Some eat on whatever they can find. Others wander aimlessly, twitching and fidgeting, looking for their next meal.

“See there?” Ukai points and there’s a military caravan truck right in the side of the building. It looks like they’ll have to go inside the school in order to get the battery.

“And that bus there is our way in,” Akaashi says nodding to the school buses in front of the fence.

“Try not to make any noise,” Ukai says, casting a glance at Bokuto who scowls.

On Ukai’s signal they move out. They keep low as they move across the street. They hide behind abandoned cars. Akaashi keeps Bokuto down while Ukai moves around to take out the infected in front of them. He grabs it in a chokehold and, although it chokes and gurgles, it’s nothing different from the usual noises they make. It goes down and none of the other infected have noticed them yet.

They near the bus. So far so good. Ukai motions him over.

“There’s a ladder on top,” he whispers. “I’ll boost you up.”

Akaashi nods. He’s probably the lightest in the group. Ukai cups his hands for Akaashi’s foot. He braces his hands on the bus as Ukai hoists him up with a subtle grunt. He grabs the top of the bus and hauls himself over.

“Quick,” Ukai says. “They’re heading our way.”

The ladder is big and made of metal. It screeches along the roof of the bus as Akaashi picks it up, trying to settle it down for the others to climb up.

“Not good, not good,” Akaashi hears Ukai muttering. He knows the sound has gathered unwanted attention.

By the time he has it set, Ukai fires his shotgun, taking down the closest of the quickly approaching infected. He fires once more before shoving Bokuto toward the ladder.

“Get up there already.”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi calls and motions him to start climbing.

Ukai follows not far behind. “We have to hurry,” he says.

They jump down on the other side of the fence and Ukai runs over to the doors, pulling on them.

“Hey! They’re coming,” Bokuto shouts and Akaashi glances back to see that he’s right. “And that fence isn’t going to hold.”

Five years worth of rusted fence isn’t going to do anything against the infected.

“It’s locked!” Ukai yells, giving the doors a kick.

“Then find a window,” Akaashi says, pushing Bokuto to follow Ukai along the side of the building. He turns back to the fence to cover their backs. Now he has bullets and is right side up. He can consider himself a good shot. He takes down two through the fence.

“Akaashi!”

“Get inside!”

Akaashi turns to see that they’ve slid one of the windows back. He makes a run for it just as he hears the fence falling behind him. Jumping up on the dumpster, he slides his way through the open window. Ukai slams it shut behind him and Akaashi turns in time to see the infected drawing nearer fast.

“They’ll break through that,” Akaashi says. “Make it fast, Ukai.”

And Ukai’s already on his way over to where the front of the truck pokes in the building. He struggles to get the hood open. Akaashi wishes it had done more damage so they could have had a better way in and out. Instead, the truck’s squeezed through the hole. No gap or anything

They’re in a small gymnasium. Near the truck, a set of doors thud and Akaashi can hear infected on the other side. He hurries over with Bokuto on his heels, making sure it stays shut.

“Do you have the battery?” Bokuto shouts.

Ukai swearing himself blue in the face is his answer. “It’s not here,” he stammers. “Someone else must have nabbed it before us.”

“This was for nothing?” Akaashi gets out, putting more force in keeping the door at his back shut.

There are other doors on the other side of the gym and Ukai makes his way over to them quickly. “Block those doors,” he says over his shoulder. “We need to get out of here.”

Akaashi leaves Bokuto at the door, scanning for something nearby to stop the infected from getting in. Right next to the door and against the wall is a heavy looking metal cart of gym mats. He supposes that will have to do. He pulls as hard as he can, but can barely get it to move an inch.

“Bokuto,” he grunts, “quick, help me with this.”

Bokuto scrambles to the other side to push. Together, they’re able to get it propped up against the doors before they can open. It looks sturdy enough, but there’s no time to reassess their work. Gunshots come from the next room. Pulling on Bokuto’s arm, he hurries after Ukai, knocking open the next set of doors open with his shoulder.

A few fresh bodies are on the ground and Ukai has his gun out. They seem to be in a larger gymnasium. Bleachers have been stacked and are pushed against the walls. Akaashi can feel Bokuto trembling beside him.

“How are we going to get out of this?” he whispers to Akaashi.

Glancing over at him, Akaashi can see the fear in his eyes. He’s been letting adrenaline run his system up until now. There are infected in the school, strong enough to push that door open eventually. The windows in the other room will break and then there’ll be more. Plus the others outside, just waiting for them like a game of cat and mouse. They’re not too clever, but they definitely have them trapped.

“Don’t worry,” Akaashi says. “We’re going to get out of this. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Like hell we are,” Ukai mutters darkly.

Akaashi glares at him, but turns back to Bokuto. The faint thud of the infected in the other room reaches their ears. “If anything happens, you make sure to get yourself out of here,” Akaashi says quiet enough so that only Bokuto hears him.

His mouth opens with questions, but Akaashi looks to Ukai. He plans on them all getting out of this alive.

“We have to get out of here,” Akaashi says to Ukai.

Ukai frowns. “You think I don’t know that?” He looks around, before his eyes settle on the bleachers. “Back out through the windows. Then we make a run for it. Follow me.”

Akaashi nods and make sure Bokuto has heard the plan as well. He gives his own nervous nod.

“I need a boost,” Ukai says and Akaashi runs over to the bleachers to clasp his fingers. Ukai is heavy, but Bokuto helps get him to the top of the bleachers.

A door bangs open and Akaashi whips around. Infected, at least two. Akaashi thinks it’s some kind of locker room, but it doesn’t really matter. While Ukai hauls Bokuto up, Akaashi shoots the infected down as they run at them.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto calls.

There are more infected coming, but they’re far enough back that Akaashi can turn away. Both Ukai and Bokuto offer their hands and Akaashi grabs them, his foot bracing off the wall of bleachers while they pull him up. Ukai already has one of the windows open. By the time they make their way out the window, Akaashi can hear them scratching at the wood of the bleachers behind. He’s glad to know that they can’t climb. At least not yet. It’s the nature of things to learn. He doesn’t want to be around when they do.

They jump down onto a dumpster and then onto the street circling the school. The jump is far enough to make Akaashi wince at the pain in his knees, but he keeps going.

“This way!” Ukai calls, already running ahead. There’s an opening to the fence where they can finally leave the school grounds. Beyond it is another set of fences, brown wooden ones, protecting backyards of houses. The cries of the infected follow them. They’re not too far behind.

“Hey, a ladder!” Bokuto points out and Ukai picks it up.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s mine,” he says as he sets it against the fence.

Akaashi waves them on. “Go, I’m right behind you.” He picks off a few of the close ones, but there’s enough space between the oncoming infected and them that he can feel somewhat easy. He heads up the ladder next and jumps over. Ukai is ready on the other side, knocking the ladder backwards with a rake as soon as Akaashi lands.

“Inside,” he says as the sounds of groans and screams get louder. “Now.”

Akaashi wrenches open a sliding glass door that takes quite a bit of effort to move. It’s a little easier to close, but not much.

“That was great,” Bokuto says breathlessly, a tone of sarcasm in his voice, once they’re safely inside. Though Akaashi wouldn’t necessarily say that they’re safe yet.

He gives Bokuto a pointed look. He needs to speak to Ukai and, knowing Ukai’s temper, it would be best if they do it alone.

Surprisingly, Bokuto catches on quickly and looks to the stairs in the hallway. “Whoa, these stairs here sure are…neat. The craftsmanship—” He points in the opposite direction of the living room they currently stand in. “I’ll be over here.”

Akaashi sighs and, once Bokuto is gone, says,” Ukai—”

“It’s not my fault someone got there first,” he drawls out.

“Then what do we do next?”

“Nothing!” Ukai yells. “We’re lucky enough we escaped that hellhole without a bite. I swear you guys are trying to get me killed. By the way, since it was _her_ fucking idea, you can tell Kiyoko—”

Akaashi glowers, stepping up to Ukai. “Don’t.”

“—she can shove it straight—”

“Don’t bring her into this!” Akaashi shouts, but Ukai’s still yelling. He clears his throat, trying to get his voice under control. “She has nothing to do with—”

Ukai’s sudden silence cuts him off and he’s no long bearing down on Akaashi. His eyes have shifted upwards. Akaashi turns around to follow his gaze.

A body hangs by a rope over the knocked over coffee table. As his heart clenches, he wonders how they could have missed that, but then, it’s getting dark outside and it’s not like there are any lights on inside. Akaashi takes a tentative step toward it. He waits for Ukai to say something, but he doesn’t. When he looks back, his mouth hangs open, clearly in shock. Akaashi recognizes that expression. Taking a deep breath, he tries to force away his anger.

“Did you know him?” he asks, his voice much quieter than it had been a moment ago.

“Takeda,” Ukai says just as quietly. “Ittetsu Takeda. He was my partner.”

In the silence that follows, Akaashi studies the body. He only looks a couple days’ dead. Maybe that’s why Ukai was so adamant about separating earlier. Maybe they had split recently. Before this had happened. Beneath the body, his shoes have been placed neatly along with a pair of square glasses, folded up and set on top. Ukai walks over, a machete drawn. With one quick swipe, the body thuds to the ground. Akaashi steps back. For a few moments, Ukai just stares down at him.

“See?” he says hoarsely, voice thick. “He has bites there…and there.” He points them out with the tip of the machete. There’s a couple on his arms. One bad one ripped open through his pants.

Akaashi swallows. “He probably didn’t want to turn,” he says slowly. He’s not sure what else to say. There’s no doubt that Ukai knows this. He’s seen it before. Akaashi hates for him to have to deal with it again.

“I guess not.” Ukai turns away and starts walking out of the room. He stops to look back one more time. “Well fuck that.”

Akaashi wants to apologize, to ask Ukai if he wants to talk about it, but his mouth is glued shut. He wouldn’t want that, just like how Akaashi hadn’t wanted it with Kiyoko. He thinks maybe he should tell Ukai the truth about what had happened, but no. He still doesn’t want to talk about it.

There’s a noise like an engine trying to start up and they both turn. They rush through the kitchen and out the door to a garage. Takeda’s body forgotten behind.

Bokuto sits in a banged up and dented car. Akaashi doesn’t know his cars well, but it seems to be some type of Toyota. Hearing them approach, Bokuto looks up and grins, ear to ear.

“Look what I found!” he chirps. With a wink, he adds, “And watch this.”

Turning the keys, Akaashi has no idea how he was able to find, the car comes to life after a few hiccups.

“No way,” he breathes while Ukai hurries to the front, lifting the hood.

“Would you look at that,” he says, a ghost of a smile on his lips. “The battery. What an asshole.” He shakes his head, glancing back at the house quickly. Akaashi almost misses it. “He got it all fixed up. All that’s missing is a pretty bow on top.”

Bokuto cheers and Akaashi can’t help smiling.

“Do you want us to give you a ride back?” Akaashi offers, but Ukai is already shaking his head.

“You guys go on,” he says with a small chuckle. Bokuto’s still cheering, running around the car, admiring the treasure he’s found. “I’ll board up here for the night, then be off in the morning.”

“You sure?” Akaashi asks, lowering his voice.

Ukai changes the subject, crossing his arms over his chest. “You are certainly not going to make it out there.” He goes to lift open the garage door. Akaashi goes to help him.

The sun’s setting light filters in. In this light, the car could practically look new. Maybe it’s just how much of a blessing it is. Silently, Akaashi thanks Takeda before looking back to Ukai.

“I’m sorry about your partner.”

Shaking his head slowly, Ukai holds out a hand. “We’re done now? All favors paid off?”

“We’re done,” Akaashi says with a nod, shaking Ukai’s hand.

Ukai squints at him. “Good, now get the hell out.” He casts a look at Bokuto before turning away and closing the kitchen door behind him.

The car is still running and Akaashi settles himself behind the wheel. Bokuto quickly takes the hint and hops into the passenger side.

“Now this is really a road trip,” he says and Akaashi can’t tell if he sounds excited or sad. Maybe it’s both.

He puts the car into gear and drives it down the driveway. Bokuto starts humming, tapping on the dash. He grins dazzlingly at Akaashi. With a sigh, Akaashi releases Ukai from his mind and the image of Takeda’s body hanging in the living room where he had chosen to die alone. He lets the thrill of driving after so many years fill him and he can’t help but to think it’s a little cliché that they drive off into the sunset.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you every for reading. This should've gone up on Sunday, but last week was a hard week. The next chapter should definitely be up within two weeks.
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Title Song](http://youtube.com/watch?v=DOE2SxPXb9w)


	5. Flicker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took much longer than I was expecting for some reason, but thank you so much for your patience!

There isn’t much daylight to drive as they leave Ukai’s. Once the sun begins its descent, that light is quickly sucked from the sky. They’re only able to make it through a few towns before they are plunged into the darkness of night. It’s too dangerous to drive, the old street lights have been dead for years and no houses shine in the distance or along the roads as Akaashi pulls into a neighborhood. Bokuto is already snoring softly in the back seat.

Even in the dim of night, Akaashi can make out the outlines of the foreboding houses. Five years ago, before he made it into Shizuoka’s military complex, it would have turned him away. Everything looks more frightening at night after all. These days he doesn’t allow it to deter him. Most of these houses are probably empty anyway. Plus they’re boarded up. This town had warning to the outbreak, but it looks deserted now. One of these houses will be safe for them to stay the night.

Akaashi selects a house at random and pulls into the driveway. There’s really no secret to picking a house to stay in these days. There’s no way to tell what’s inside. All he can do is be careful.

He unbuckles his seatbelt and turns to shake Bokuto awake. He’s also feeling the exhaustion of not sleeping the past forty-eight hours or so, but he needs to keep alert now. Bokuto will still probably be groggy and tired. Akaashi hopes he can wake himself up enough to help search over the house before they can really settle in. At least he’s immune, Akaashi thinks grumpily. Then he sighs and shakes those thoughts from his head. He’s tired.

“Bokuto,” he says, reaching an arm back to grab his shoulder.

Bokuto blinks awake slowly, yawning widely. Akaashi spares a second to envy that. He wishes he could come awake that calmly. Bokuto turns his eyes on Akaashi, squinting through the dark.

“We’re stopping for the night,” Akaashi explains. “I can’t drive any further.” He looks back at the house. There’s a garage door and they should definitely get the car in there to keep it safe for the night. He doesn’t want to lose their transportation after only getting a few miles out of it. He opens his door. “Help me with the garage door.”

Sniffing and rubbing sleep from his face, Bokuto follows. They both close each door quietly behind them. They crouch to get their hands just under the door.

“On three. One…two…”

They heave and slowly the door comes up. Luckily, it’s less noise than Akaashi had been expected. He’s also relieved to see that it’s empty inside. The previous family must have tried taking their car out at one point. Or someone else. He doesn’t care. It’s the first sign that he’s chosen the right house for them to stay at.

Once the garage door is high enough for the car to get under, Akaashi hurries back muttering, “Wait here,” to Bokuto. It doesn’t take much longer for him to get the car safely in, parked, and the garage door back down. This puts them in sudden darkness, no moonlight to help, but Akaashi is ready with his flashlight out. The door into the house isn’t locked and Bokuto follows him inside.

He reaches into his backpack and hands the second flashlight he had gotten at Ukai’s to Bokuto. “Here. Search upstairs. Every room. Then meet me back down here,” he instructs Bokuto.

Bokuto’s eyes light up at the sight of another flashlight, which he grabs excitedly from Akaashi. With a quick and promising salute, he hurries off, the sound of his muffled footsteps hitting the stairs.

It’s not a very big house, but that decreases the number of places that could be hiding the infected. Akaashi goes over the kitchen, then the bathroom attached to the hall, listening intently for anything. Finding another person would even be worse than an infected, especially a surprised person with their finger on the trigger of a gun.

There’s nothing in the living room either. He checks the last door, a coat closet, but that’s all clear, too.

“All clear up here,” Bokuto says as he comes back down the stairs.

Akaashi sighs in relief. “We’re good here, too.”

“So we get to sleep?” Bokuto asks eagerly.

“Yes,” Akaashi says, a small smile lifting his lips. The thought of sleeping makes his knees want to give out right then and there, but his brain stops him. It would be so much better to sleep in a bed. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Bokuto cheers quietly and runs back up the stairs, his footsteps louder now that they’re safe here in this house. Akaashi follows at a slower pace. He double checks that the doors are locked before heading up.

“Which room do you want?” he asks around a yawn. Having been the one to check upstairs, Bokuto has probably already picked his favorite room. Akaashi’s surprised when he doesn’t answer right away. Instead, Bokuto stops at the top of the stairs, waiting for Akaashi to catch up, looking sheepish.

“Actually,” he stars off hesitantly, “I was wondering if we could stay in the same room. It’s really creepy in here.”

Although he doesn’t want to, Akaashi can’t help but agree. The house is completely empty, looted who know how long ago. As safe as it seems, even after checking it over, that emptiness still gives him the creeps.

Bokuto takes Akaashi’s pause as hesitance. His eyes go wide, holding up his hands defensively. “I just don’t want to be alone,” he says slowly. “I mean, I’ll totally sleep on the floor!”

“That won’t be necessary,” Akaashi says. He looks around and finds the master bedroom. The bed is still there with its mattress, though the sheets are long gone. When Bokuto doesn’t follow right away, Akaashi beckons him in and closes the door behind him. “Will you help me move that dresser over the door?”

Bokuto freezes, looking between the dresser, the door, and Akaashi, as if it has somehow offended him. “Do we have to?” he asks in a small voice.

“Unless you want to sleep in shifts, and I really don’t, it will make sure no one breaks in without us knowing first.”

It takes another moment for him to decide, but Akaashi tries to remain patient as much as he would like to sleep right now. Finally, Bokuto nods. “Alright.”

The dresser is large and wooden and looks sturdy enough against the door. Akaashi plops his backpack down next to his side of the bed and leaves his flashlight and gun on the side table. Bokuto still hesitates near the door.

“You sure you don’t want me to sleep on the floor?” he asks, making Akaashi sigh.

“Just get in bed, Bokuto.”

**———**

The morning air is muggy and droplets still cling to the windows from the rain showers they had passed during the first hour of driving. Akaashi relaxes in the silence, cruising down the abandoned freeway. There are a few cars here and there that he has to go around to avoid, but other than that it’s just them on the road.

Bokuto shifts around in the back seat every so often. He had moved back there not long into starting out that morning. He said it was so he could stretch out. He’s been fairly quiet so far. A couple of times, Akaashi assumed he was napping, but then he’d move around again. He’s silent now and Akaashi starts to wonder if he should be worried—

“Damn it!”

He nearly swerves into the divide in surprise. As he straightens the car back up he glances over his should. “What? What is it?”

Bokuto looks as though he’s nearly been thrown from the seat and a little dazed. He picks what looks like a comic book from his face. It’s wrinkled, like it’s been folded up a number of times. From his brief glance, Akaashi thinks it looks like a Deadpool comic.

“This!” he exclaims with a frown, pointing at it. He quickly flips to the last page. Jabbing his finger at the bottom corner he continues, “Look! To be continued? That’s so not fair!” He crumples back into his laying position, comic book still being held dramatically in the air.

Akaashi takes another quick look before deciding to use the rearview mirror. He squints at what Bokuto holds. “Where did you get that?” he demands.

“Uhh.” Hesitating, Bokuto’s eyes go wide. “Ukai’s.” While Akaashi shakes his head, he keeps going, “He had piles of junk, Akaashi. He’s not going to miss this.”

“What else?” Akaashi asks, rolling his eyes. He just knows Ukai’s going to notice at some point.

Bokuto scrambles up and over back into the passenger seat, bouncing excitedly. He digs something out from his pocket and unscrews it. Akaashi turns his eyes back to the road, but, when he does look back, Bokuto’s spiking his hair up. Out of everything Ukai was hoarding, he stole hair gel. His eyes sparkle at Akaashi.

“Like it?” he asks, though he’s only partway through styling it.

Akaashi turns his eyes back to the road. “You look like an owl.”

When he looks again, Bokuto is trying to flatten it again. Akaashi reaches over and gently slaps his hand away before the road claims his attention again.

“It’s fine. I like it,” he says. Another quick glance over. “I like owls.”

Bokuto beams. “Hoot! Hoot!” he chirps, going back to spiking it. He adjusts the mirror his way in order to see.

“Where did you hide all this stuff?” he asks. It’s not like Bokuto has a backpack to keep his stuff in like Akaashi does.

“My pockets,” Bokuto replies innocently enough, which explains the folded up comic.

After a few minutes of silence, Akaashi looks over at him again. He’s just putting the finishing touches on his hair. Now that he’s finished, it looks good. Better even then the day they met.

“We didn’t get much sleep last night,” he says softly, thinking of how they had tossed and turned all night, the hollow house creaking around them. He misses his bed back in Shizuoka. At least he was used to that lumpy mattress. In fact, he misses a lot of things in Shizuoka. “Why don’t you take a nap?”

Bokuto gives his a quizzical face. “But I’m not even tired, Akaashi.”

Shrugging, he drives on, his concentration taken by the road. Better than meditating, he thinks. It could be a few minutes or another hour, but snores interrupt. Glancing over, Bokuto has gone out like a light, cheek pressed up against the window. Akaashi smiles.

Unfortunately, the peace doesn’t last for long. Akaashi draws in a sharp breath through his nose as he nears a fork in the freeway. The right takes them into the next city while the left continues onward. He wants to keep going. They don’t have time to get pulled into towns and cities, but the freeway is clogged up with cars, all abandoned a long time ago as people were trying to flee five years ago. There’s no room for them to squeeze past.

Bokuto stirs at the slight noise and the feeling of the car coming to a halt. He sits up, rubbing his eyes. “What is it?” he murmurs.

“Detour,” Akaashi replies, backing up and turning the wheel to take them into the city.

The city looks just as deserted as the cars outside it. Too many of the signs have been painted over from the earlier days of the outbreak so Akaashi has no idea where they are. Bokuto stares out the window, his nap long forgotten now.

Someone runs out in front of them and Akaashi slams his foot on the brakes.

“Whoa!” Bokuto nearly falls into the dash, but he catches himself. He keeps from saying more when he looks up to see the man out in front of them. He seems hurt, holding onto his side and yelling out to them, waving his arm. “We’re gonna help him, right?” Bokuto asks, facing Akaashi.

Grimly, Akaashi reaches over his shoulder. “Put your seatbelt on, Bokuto,” he says.

“But what about him?” Bokuto stammers out while doing what he’s told.

“He’s not hurt.”

Tires screech as Akaashi switches his foot to the gas. Bokuto yells out and holds on tight. The man is just as surprised, but he’s still composed enough to pull out a gun. The empty cars along the side of the street are suddenly filled with life, doors opening and more people come pouring out. He fires once before the corner of their car hits him, the bullet breaks the glass right between Bokuto and Akaashi. The rest throw bricks and other pieces of debris at the car, some have better aim than others. One breaks the window of Bokuto’s side, showering his with glass. He cries out and turns to protect his face.

Something rams into the rear of their car and sends them spinning. Akaashi tries to straighten out, but, before he knows it, they smash head first through a storefront’s window and skid to the back wall of the vacant shop.

The crash sends Akaashi’s head cracking off the window and whacking against the steering wheel, where he sits dazed for a moment. Then, both doors are wrenched open and he feels angry hands clasp his shoulders. Bokuto cries out and his head snaps upright, making it swim and his vision blur. Through the haze, he sees more hands grabbing hold of Bokuto and trying to drag him from the car. Akaashi fights to catch Bokuto’s hand, tugging and pulling to keep both of them in the car, the only place his muddled mind can think is safe.

“Hey! Let go of me!” Bokuto yells, trying to bite one of the hands. “Akaashi!”

Hands pull on Akaashi harder. Then a punch to the back of his already aching head makes his grip on Bokuto’s hand slack and limp. It slips away in that split second. Their assailants finally succeed in pulling them from the car.

Two men haul Bokuto off in the air while his legs kick and his fists fly. Akaashi hopes he gets a few good hits in before his own attacker distracts him. The man pushes him into the wall. He punches him in the side of his head this time. Akaashi steps back on his foot hard and jabs his back, catching his cheek, then again. He hopes the cracking sound he hears is the man’s nose as he grabs his hair and slams his face against the wall until his body sags to the floor, a bloodstain left on the white wall.

He spins around, looking for Bokuto. He’s easy to find with all his yelling. Akaashi sees him bite into his restrainers arm.

“Fuck,” the man grunts. He releases Bokuto for a better angle to punch him. Bokuto goes down hard. He straddles Bokuto’s chest, but before he can get in another hit, Akaashi rushes over and kicks him in the head. It’s hard enough that he doesn’t get back up.

Bokuto wipes at a split lip as he tries to get back on his feet. Pulling on his arm, Akaashi helps.

“What is up with these guys?”

But Akaashi doesn’t have the chance to answer. Five more block their exit from the shop, guns trained on them. As if abandoning the car wasn’t bad enough, Akaashi raises his hands, nudging Bokuto to do the same. This is one crappy situation and Akaashi wracks his brain trying to think of a way out.

**———**

The men leave him in an old, cramped cellar. They tie his wrists to a rusty pipe with plastic ties. It’s the only thing he can see down here, but before he can really look around, he realizes he’s being left alone.

“Bokuto,” he calls out.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yells back, but one of the guys shoves him back up the steps, causing him to stumble. He can’t be more than a kid around Bokuto’s age. He looks back to Akaashi and sticks his pierced tongue out at him as he laughs.

An older guy whacks the back of his head. “Stop fooling around, Terushima.”

Terushima pouts, but makes up for it by shoving Bokuto again. Their conversation fades as the door slams shut behind them.

The moment he’s on his own, Akaashi panics. He makes the mistake of opening the floodgates and letting it fill his stomach all the way up to his chest. It’s only then, with his breaths coming in fast pants, that he feels the weight drop on his shoulders. He understands the responsibility of smuggling around mankind’s cure across Japan. He’s lost Bokuto already, only a few days in, and he knows that he has to do everything he can to get him back. That’s what she wanted after all.

No, no—he can’t think of that. He can’t lose this momentum he’s building, driven by his panic. Bokuto. He has to think of Bokuto. Saving him. Getting them out of here alive.

Without realizing it, his hands have been twisting and pulling as he rides through his panic. They scrape the plastic tie up and down on the pipe, doing anything to break free. He has to be stronger than a simple strip of plastic, he thinks, but the thought is so far away he barely grasps it.

Later he’ll blame his reckless acting on being hit in the head one too many times.

After a few minutes and some deep breaths, he starts to calm, but it takes feeling something warm run down and drip off his fingers to do so. The panic dims and the adrenaline slows. His wrists sting. Moving his hands and wincing as they brush against the plastic, he knows he’s rubbed them raw. What he also notices is that the pipe is loose. Whether it has always been or that his tugging on it helped, it doesn’t matter.

He bites his lip and yanks hard at the plastic. The pipe squeaks and groans. Akaashi tries to keep from making his own sounds of pain as the plastic digs deeper into the wounds on his wrist. He hopes it will come off altogether, but he’d give anything for the tie to just snap.

Bracing one foot back against the wall, he fights even harder against his binds, pushing and pulling, until he finally hears the snap of the tie breaking. It’s music to his ears. He catches himself before he falls on his face and leaves a bloody handprint on the cement.

Akaashi doesn’t have time to look over his wrists. He finds his backpack at the bottom of the stairs, grabs it, and rushes up, taking two at a time. He slows at the door, but when he creaks it open, there’s no one there. His gun is out, fully loaded, and ready this time. There weren’t too many when they came. He only hopes that he doesn’t have to fight through them all at once. If he can be quiet about this, it’ll be fine.

It’s not hard finding Bokuto. As usual, Akaashi could’ve heard him from a mile away.

“I don’t know! I told you, we just found it.”

The house they’re in has a fenced in backyard. He catches sight of Bokuto and the older man from before. It’s just the two of them, Bokuto on his knees with his hands tied behind his back similarly to Akaashi’s. He nears the sliding glass door and eases it open. He takes aim carefully and fires before the man can catch sight of him. Bokuto flinches at the sound and falls on his side, trying to protect himself from any more shots. Akaashi hurries over.

“Bokuto, don’t worry. It’s me.” He helps Bokuto upright, then cuts his ties with a knife from his backpack.

Bokuto’s eyes shine. “Akaashi! I knew it!” he exclaims, though quietly, which Akaashi is grateful for. “I knew you’d get us out of here.”

“Not just yet,” Akaashi says. He goes over to the fence’s gate. “We have to make it back into the city to the freeway. They didn’t take us far.”

“It’ll be alright. Everyone else left. They went back to our car to search our supplies even though I told them we don’t have any.”

“That’s pretty dumb of them.”

Bokuto laughs as they walk down the street. The taller buildings tower in front of them not too far away. If they could just get into one of those, they’d be able to see which direction to head.

“Yeah, they should’ve known better than to leave a smart guy like you on your own. How’d you escape?” Bokuto asks excitedly. “Was it like some kind of magic trick? Did you keep a knife up your sleeve or something?”

Akaashi holds up his wrists to inspect. “Not exactly,” he murmurs. They’re pretty messy.

Bokuto looks over and hisses sympathetically at the sight. “Akaashi, those look awful.”

“It’s not so bad,” Akaashi says with a shrug. At least they’re not bleeding as much. “I’ve had worse.” He wipes his palms off on his jeans.

“That still doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt,” he mutters, scowling. Then his face brightens as he thinks of something. “Don’t worry! I’ll fix them up for you at our next stop. That’s the least I can do, right?”

Akaashi raises his eyebrows doubtfully, but says, “Thank you, Bokuto.”

Bokuto grins at that and starts going on about the kind of house they’d find tonight. He imagines a mansion, fully stocked of course. Plenty of food to go around. Akaashi keeps his guard up. There’s no way they’ve seen the last of those men. Bokuto suddenly turns his thoughts along the same lines.

“Who were those guys? Why’d they attack us?”

“We call them hunters,” Akaashi explains. They pass by a wall that looks similar to the one around Shizuoka’s complex, only this one is close to falling apart. It’s spray painted with messages and graffiti, just like the rest of the city.

_If we starve, you starve_

_What happens when there’s no more food?_

_We need to eat too!_

And, of course, some from the Crows.

_FLY_

“It looks like this city used to be a complex.”

“Well what happened to it?” Bokuto asks.

“Plenty of them failed. A lot of people rebelled against the military during that winter when we had low rations. There was a rumor that the military wasn’t giving out everything they had. People were starving and they’d do anything to get rations.”

Bokuto hums thoughtfully at that and doesn’t say anything for a bit. He looks over the wall and traces one of the painted crows with his fingers.

Finally, they move on. It seems like they’ve neared downtown, the buildings rise higher here. Akaashi looks for a good one to scout from. He sees a hotel down the street a ways and figures that’s a good place to start. He’s found in the past that hotels are good to hide and store supplies. It might be hitting two birds with one stone, he hopes.

The hotel is missing its doors. It stands wide open and any windows still intact are covered in webbed-like cracks. It doesn’t seem safe to stay for long, but Akaashi hopes they’ll find something useful. If anything, they’ll get a good vantage point to figure out where to head in order to get out of this city.

Inside, it’s clear that this is one of those fancy hotels, or it used to be. Akaashi remembers seeing them on television shows and movies. There’s a grand staircase on both the left and right side of the lobby, but the one on the left is half collapsed, no way to get up on that side. The entire place has flooded, too. Scummy water swallows up the few steps that lead down into the lobby. Akaashi sighs, but continues ahead. It’ll be worth it, he tells himself and it takes him until he’s halfway across the lobby, water just above his knees, when he realizes Bokuto isn’t fallowing. He stops and turns. Bokuto still hovers at the top of the stairs in the entranceway.

“It doesn’t get very deep, does it?” he asks.

Akaashi shakes his head. “This is the deepest it goes I think,” he says with a glance down to his legs. “Why?”

Bokuto starts down the steps and wades into the water, slowly catching up to Akaashi who waits for him. He gives a smile, though Akaashi can see his nerves beneath it. “I don’t know how to swim,” he says confidently, though his voice covers up what he’s feeling, Akaashi figures. The confession catches him off guard.

“You don’t?” he asks. Bokuto wasn’t too old when the outbreak happened, but still. Fifteen is old enough. At least that’s what Akaashi thinks.

“Yeah, I never learned.”

Akaashi stares down at the water for a second before he starts leading the way again. “Don’t worry, Bokuto,” he says as they make their way behind the receptionist’s desk. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Bokuto brightens considerable. “Thanks, Akaashi!”

Shushing him, Akaashi tries the office door, but of course it’s locked. “Shh, we don’t know if there’s anyone here or not.”

Bokuto nods silently.

Akaashi checks the drawers behind the counter. There’s a bit of ammo that goes with his gun. Good, so that means someone’s using this place for storage. Well, good and bad. He stuffs it into his pack as Bokuto has a look around near the only staircase that still holds together in one piece. This means that they might find more, which is good, but it also means they might run into more of the gang from earlier. Akaashi makes sure to keep one eye on Bokuto.

He stands and makes his way over to Bokuto. Their best bet is probably going upstairs. Finding the ammo here makes sense. It could be a quick grab for anyone who needed it in a hurry, but it’s doubtful that they’re going to find anything else in the lobby, not with the door locked at least.

“Ready to head upstairs?” he asks.

“Sure, Akaashi,” Bokuto says with an easy smile. Akaashi can appreciate his upbeat attitude in such a situation, especially after the loss of their car. Akaashi can hardly see it as much more than naiveté, but it’s still nice.

As they head up, the carpet goes from being damp to dry. He’d rather not waste time climbing all the way to the top, so Akaashi aims for the seventh floor. He hopes that will be high enough to get a good sense of their location and the general direction of the next town. With this one crawling with hunters, he wants to be at least one town over before they call it a night and plan out what to do now that they have to travel the rest of the way on foot. Go figure they’d get stuck in an old compound city with these hunters.

“So how did you know?” Bokuto asks suddenly.

“How did I know what?” Akaashi turns around at the landing, waiting for Bokuto.

He’s noticeably relieved now that they’re no longer wading around in the water. “About the hunters. How did you know it was a trap?”

Akaashi shifts uncomfortably, but Bokuto doesn’t notice. He’s already starting up the next flight of stairs. Akaashi hesitates, but follows. “I’ve had it happen to me before.” He clears his throat. “And I’ve been on both sides actually.”

“Oh,” Bokuto says quietly, stopping for a moment before continuing on, not looking back. He waits on the next landing to walk at Akaashi’s side though he doesn’t look at him. “So did you go after innocent people, too?”

Akaashi huffs a sigh, but otherwise remains silent. He doesn’t really want to relive those moments. Things were different then. He and Kuroo had to make ends meet. They had jobs to do and quotas to fill. And they did them. They had to, if they wanted to eat at the end of the week. So, in the end, it didn’t matter who it was that walked into the ambush. Not when it meant ration cards on their end. Things changed when he found Kiyoko, but not much. They still did the dirty jobs from time to time. Someone had to.

Bokuto hums to himself. “I guess that’s a yes.”

They continue climbing the stairs in silence.

“This is far enough,” Akaashi says eventually at the next floor. “We need to find a room with a balcony.”

Most of the rooms have already been broken into, but they’re all empty. They find nothing in a brief search of the floor. Akaashi finally settles on a room and slides the glass door on the other side open to the balcony. The wind ruffles his hair as he approaches the railing. It’s a bit chilly, but still holds hope for a warm summer. They’ll need it as they travel farther north.

Scanning the town, Akaashi spots a bridge in the distance. It’s just on the other side of town, but not too far. With the sun approaching late afternoon, Akaashi hopes to make it out of the city by evening.

“See that bridge?” he asks, pointing it out to Bokuto who shades his eyes and nods. “We need to head in that direction.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bokuto says, grinning.

That settled, they leave the balcony, heading back into the room and down the stairs at the end of the hall. Akaashi wishes they had found more supplies, but he really doesn’t want to waste their precious daylight searching the hotel, definitely not one this size. They don’t know who could be lurking around on one of the floors.

About halfway down, Bokuto speaks up. “Do you ever regret it?”

“All the time,” Akaashi says, assuming he’s jumping back into the conversation. It’s partially the truth. He regrets hurting other people, but he can’t regret the fact that doing it kept him and Kuroo alive. Maybe they could’ve found something else, but that’s easy to think in hindsight. Not so easy when they were weak with hunger after days without food, sometimes weeks.

He says he regrets it for Bokuto’s sake.

He sighs and turns down the last flight. Nearing the bottom, there’s a creak in the steps behind them, but Akaashi turns too late. With a yell, a body crashes into him and knocks him down the last few steps and into the water.

Before he can resurface for air, a hand plants itself on the side of his head, smashing his face into the ground. The gun that was in his hand seconds ago is gone. His fingers close around empty water. He squints his eyes between the fingers holding him down in the murky water. The gun’s not too far away. While fighting to upset the body on top of him, he reaches his hand out. The tips of his fingers just barely brush against the gun. It’s too far. Akaashi tries to shift closer, but the weight is too heavy and another hand pulls his arm back. His lungs beg for air and he can’t be sure if it’s the water or his vision that’s growing darker. Still he fights for the gun. But then it’s gone. Right out of his fingertips and his heart sinks. Their attacker has help. They don’t stand a chance, even if he could get free.

A shot rings out, muffled by the water in his ears. It’s over. Either he’s been shot or Bokuto has, but then the weight lessens and drifts off of him. A hand grabs his shirt roughly and yanks him to the surface. He gasps and coughs, hacking up the water he inhaled. His eyes water, but he sees Bokuto standing there, Akaashi’s gun held rigidly in his hand, away from his side like it might bite, but his big, wide eyes are on Akaashi.

“Akaashi!” he half whispers in alarm. “You’re okay, right? Please tell me you’re okay. I don’t know CPR.”

Akaashi laughs at that, but it’s probably the shock. “I’m fine, Bokuto.”

“And that was okay?” he asks, more hesitantly now. “I mean, I did okay?” His eyes shift quickly over to the body. Akaashi sees it, too. He’s dead. The blood spreads through the water and Akaashi struggles to push himself to his feet at the sight.

He wants to tell Bokuto no, that wasn’t okay. He wants to yank the gun from his hand because, he realizes now, that’s an image he never wanted to see. Bokuto has killed a man and Akaashi realizes he doesn’t know if this was his first time. By the way Bokuto holds the gun, he assumes so and that thought makes him sick. He wants nothing more than to tell Bokuto off and never have him hold a gun or kill anyone ever again.

But that’s just not realistic.

He can’t keep Bokuto from protecting himself, not in this world. He can’t selfishly keep him in the dark just so he can bask in the light of Bokuto’s innocence. As refreshing as it is, if it means raising Bokuto’s chances of surviving, Akaashi’s willing to risk it. He has to be.

At least his first kill was to save someone else.

Akaashi puts a smile on his face, one that he hopes is encouraging. “You did well, Bokuto,” he says. “It was either him or me.”

Bokuto grins, but then his face pales and he holds the gun out to Akaashi. “Yeah, I feel sick.”

Casting him a worried look, Akaashi forces himself to push the fun back into Bokuto’s hands. “Keep it. I have another in my backpack.”

Sighing, Bokuto studies the gun with care before tucking it away. He almost looks disappointed.

“I’ll teach you how to shoot later,” Akaashi says. He has his breath back now. They should head toward the bridge.

Bokuto brightens at the promise. “Really, Akaashi?”

“Yes,” Akaashi says, “but keep your voice down.”

“Yessir, Akaashi, sir!” Bokuto says in a low whisper. “But you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, thank you, Bokuto.”

“But that was a pretty great shot, right, Akaashi?”

“Yes, amazing, Bokuto.”

Bokuto laughs, hands on his hips. “You’re welcome.”

Akaashi’s glad to see the quick turnaround in Bokuto’s mood.

**———**

They only get a block or so over when they hear an engine rumbling a street over. Akaashi’s heart sinks because, as if they didn’t have enough to worry about already, these hunters have a car. He figured there were more living in the city than the ones they had encountered earlier and it makes sense that they would have at least one vehicle. If this complex fell to the uprisings back during that bad winter, then there was plenty of supplies to take from the military. And if they had stolen one of their trucks—well, it would be the hunters’ now.

Sneaking down a side alley, Akaashi goes to confirm his thoughts. He spots it just before it turns the next corner, heading away from them fortunately. It’s a military truck, one with a gun on top, which would be extremely dangerous if they were to get caught.

As they head in opposite directions, sounds of the truck fade and Akaashi grows more comfortable. He hopes it stays far away from them. If it’s on patrol, maybe that means they’re finally safe.

But, of course, as soon as the thought enters his mind, Akaashi knows he’s gone and jinxed them.

“Hey!”

Akaashi looks over his shoulder and sees the kid from that morning, Terushima he thinks his name is, the one with the tongue piercing. He’s running toward them with two others at his side. They look roughly around the same age, but they have guns, making their age irrelevant. No matter how old, a gun in their hands means they’re equally dangerous.

They pant hard when they catch up within shooting distance and Terushima grins. Akaashi stops and turns fully to face them. He makes sure he’s standing slightly in front of Bokuto.

“What do you want?” he asks, keeping his voice even. He wants to act compliant. These boys look like they’re the type to go trigger-happy without any warning. He hates people like that. They’re hard to reason with.

“We captured you earlier,” Terushima drawls. “You’re our prisoners. You and your stuff belongs to us.”

“Yeah, well, we escaped,” Bokuto says over Akaashi’s shoulder.

“And we’re here to bring you back,” Terushima retorts, cocking his gun. With a sly smile, he adds, “Or at least your stuff. I don’t think you matter as much.”

There’s a moment of silence, neither side aware of what the other will do. Then Akaashi shoves Bokuto into the alleyway nearby for cover and ducks just as a shot fires over his head. He takes his gun and quickly shoots one of Terushima’s companions. Bokuto lunges quickly out to do the same, but misses, before taking cover again. Akaashi feels a bullet whiz by his arm and he flinches away. He aims, firing once more, and then it’s just Terushima left.

Both take aim and, at the same time, they pull the trigger, only both guns are empty. Akaashi both curses and thanks their luck.

“You killed my friend at the hotel,” Terushima growls as he grinds his teeth.

Akaashi gets to his feet. “Your friend tried to kill me first,” he says calmly. All he needs is a moment to get the extra ammo from his backpack.

Terushima throws his gun to the side and charges. Akaashi blocks a sloppy punch aimed at his head, but misses Terushima’s other hand that swipes in. There’s a flash of pain on his upper arm just before Terushima scurries back out of reach, keeping his distance, and Akaashi realizes he has a knife in his hands.

Akaashi glances down to see a long tear in his jacket, going clean through the shirt underneath as well. At the sight of blood sliding down the leather and the pain that still flares and burns, he can guess that Terushima cut deep.

Before Terushima can take a step closer, Bokuto fires. It hits in front of him, just near his foot, but it’s enough to make him jump back.

“Don’t think you can walk out of here so easily,” Terushima spits and, before Bokuto can get another shot in, runs away, down another street, and out of sight.

Bokuto takes a step closer to Akaashi, coming out from the alley. “You’re really getting beat up today, Akaashi.” He peers closely at Akaashi’s arm, though the jacket keeps him from seeing much of the cut

“I’ll be fine, Bokuto,” Akaashi says, though he can tell it’s pretty bad. It throbs painfully as he reloads his gun and the bloodstain grows. He reaches through the tear to try and bunch the tatters of the shirt beneath over it to try and staunch the bleeding. “I’ll last an hour or so until we make our stop tonight.”

The sun has already begun its descent and Akaashi remembers how fast days end. He finds himself longing for summer, just as he always does. Longer days mean more time to get what needs doing done. More work used to mean more ration cards. Now the longer days mean travel time.

But right now they need to get to the bridge.

“Come on,” he says, his arm fixed up as best as he can right now. “Enough worrying about this. We need to make it across the bridge and find a place to stay before nightfall.”

The words have barely left his mouth when he hears the faint rumbling. His heart stops for a second. That Terushima must have gone running back to his friends. Of course he had. They shouldn’t have allowed him to escape. Stupid, Akaashi thinks to himself. What a stupid mistake to make.

Now not only do they have to race the sunlight, but beat the hunters as well. They won’t just allow them to slip away either. If Akaashi knows anything it’s that revenge drives hard. People cling to revenge, even when they have nothing left. If Terushima was looking to get it, so are the rest.

“Get to the bridge,” Akaashi says, pulling on Bokuto’s arm. It’s just a street or two over. They don’t have far to go. “Hurry, Bokuto.”

The bridge is littered with cars and for the first time, it’s a good sign. With the truck revving up behind them and the sound of bullets on asphalt, they’re going to need the cover. They zigzag back and forth behind cars and Akaashi pushes Bokuto ahead of him. The cars stop the bullets, but are no match for the large truck. It pushes straight through, making its own way on the bridge. As long as they can beat them across, they can probably lose them in the trees on the other side. They’d have to give up by then.

“Keep going!” Akaashi shouts at Bokuto, who stops to glance back at him.

Akaashi makes sure he’s far enough ahead before he does his own glance over his shoulder. It’s hard to check while mid-crouch and weaving behind cars, but the hunters are definitely gaining on them. They need to do something fast or else they’re going to be road kill.

He skids around a bus that nearly blocks the entire road when he sees Bokuto has come to a stop. So has the bridge.

“The bridge is gone,” Bokuto says, his voice verging on panic. “It’s just—” He motions at the wide space over the water with his hands. The other end is too far away.

“We could try circling back around,” Akaashi says, trying to think fast. “Take the outside of the bridge…or try to lose them in the cars, sneak past.”

“They’re gonna kill us, Akaashi! Shoot us, flatten us—something!”

“Then what’s your idea?” He keeps his voice calm and steady in order to, if anything, keep Bokuto from panicking more.

Bokuto swallows and looks over the edge nervously.

“No,” Akaashi cuts him off before he can even suggest the idea that’s going to get them killed.

“We jump!” Bokuto still continues to say. “We have to!”

Akaashi shakes his head, tossing glances over his shoulder. He can see the headlights. Maybe the bus will give them a minute or two. “Bokuto, you can’t swim and it’s too high.” He gnaws on his lip, thinking fast. “I can get you over the bus. You can run past them.”

“We’re not separating, Akaashi!”

The truck is closer. They can hear it pulling back and ramming into the bus. It forces them to move closer to the edge. If they’re not careful it’s going to push them over whether they want to jump or not.

Bokuto thinks on it one more time before deciding. He points at Akaashi. “You’ll keep me afloat.”

They watch the bus shudder once more, even closer now.

“I trust you!” he yells over the engine and, with a running start, jumps over the edge before Akaashi can stop him.

“Bokuto!” There’s no more time to think. He’s dead on the bridge if he stays and Bokuto’s dead in the water without him.

He jumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since the semester is starting to wind down, I'll be pretty busy with finals so chapters may not come as frequent, but they will still come! I really hope the next one won't take long. I've been planning it for a bit and really looking forward to writing it.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for the kudos and comments. They are so helpful!
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Title Song](http://youtube.com/watch?v=QSfvUvKyYxY)


	6. Talk Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So because I know how awful cliffhangers can be, I hurried so I could post this next chapter early.

He is soaked down to the bone and his body feels like one giant bruise. Finally coming to, those are his first thoughts. His body gives an involuntary shiver. He’s freezing. The ground below his cheek is gritty and damp. His feet are numb, but it still feels like they’re in water.

Akaashi cracks his eyes open, pushing himself up on his knees. He’s still halfway in the river. Glancing around, he finds that the bridge is upstream a ways and that he’s now on the opposite side. This is exactly where they wanted to be, but he could’ve done without the swim in the river. He crawls so that he’s at least out of the cold waters, no having the strength to stand just yet.

The last thing he remembers is hitting the waves far below and fighting to find Bokuto in the current that was a lot stronger than he had thought. He remembers spotting Bokuto’s bobbing head and grabbing hold of him, but then nothing.

And now he’s here, washed up on the riverbank, and freezing.

At the thought of Bokuto though, he glances around wildly. There’s nothing on the riverbank around him. Plus the sun is just about to wink out of sight. He has no choice but to struggle to his feet. His legs are numb as well, but they hold. He goes to the right first and doesn’t get far before he turns back around, searching hopelessly.

Please let him be alive, he thinks. It strikes up like a chant in his head. Please, please, please—

Not far back upstream, Akaashi sees a section of the long grass growing here flattened. It nearly reaches his knees as he wades through it, his feet sinking into the watery mud. Bokuto practically blends into the ground, he’s so covered in mud. Akaashi crouches down to check his breathing, wiping some of the mud from his face. It only takes a second for his nose to scrunch up and his eyes to open, blurrily at first. He sits up on his own.

“You okay?” Akaashi asks.

Bokuto’s teeth flash beneath the mud still caked on his face. “I told you we’d be fine.”

“That was stupid,” Akaashi says, pushing Bokuto back into the mud and weeds. “Don’t do it again.”

They both stand and Akaashi can hear Bokuto’s teeth chattering behind him from the cold. They seem fine now, but what they really need is a place to spend the night. As they tread up the hill back to the road, Akaashi tries to brush the gritty dirt from his clothes. While the wind makes them even colder, it does help to dry them a bit. Once on the road, Akaashi sees that Bokuto has been doing the same. Most of the mud and grim has been rubbed from his face with only streaks left over.

Akaashi takes the first turn the road offers and they’re lucky that it turns into a neighborhood. It’s well hidden in the trees surrounding it and small. He’s sure it will be fine for tonight. The houses are small, too. Very few have two stories and even less have garages.

“Which one?” Bokuto asks once they’ve passed by a few houses.

Glancing around in the dim light, Akaashi shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. You can pick if you want, Bokuto.” It all comes down to luck anyway. Maybe Bokuto’s luck is better than his.

Bokuto closes his eyes and points to a house randomly. Not exactly what Akaashi was thinking, but it doesn’t matter. This one has a garage and when they approach, he finds the front door is locked. Not surprising, but then so is the garage door. It’s been chained and locked down tight.

Standing up in defeat, Akaashi asks, “Want to pick another?”

But Bokuto shakes his head insistently. “Nope, definitely this one,” he says confidently.

Akaashi casts a deadpanned look at the house. There’s nothing special about it. All the windows are boarded up. If Bokuto really has his heart set on it, then they’re going to have to find a way inside.

“Hey, what about here?” Bokuto asks, pointing to the mandoor to the left of the garage door.

It’s probably locked, too, but Akaashi tries it, deciding to humor Bokuto. He’s right. The knob stays firmly in place, refusing to turn in his hand. The small windows also have a board nailed diagonally across it.

“No luck,” Akaashi says, but Bokuto approaches, forcing him to takes a step back.

For a moment, Bokuto just stares at the door, eying it up and down. Crossing his arms over his chest, Akaashi waits off to the side. He sneezes in the cold and he’s just about to pull Bokuto away to another, unlocked house, when Bokuto finally speaks.

“Be right back!” Then he zips around the side of the house before Akaashi can say anything. And he’s left to wait in silence again.

When Bokuto returns, he holds a rock about the size of his palm. And again, not waiting for Akaashi to stop him, he smashes against the glass between the bottom of the window and the gap left by the board. The glass breaks a little too loudly for Akaashi’s comfort, but Bokuto quickly and careful clears the hole of any shards still connected. Then he reaches through and unlocks the door.

With a grand bow, he pulls the door open and gestures Akaashi through. “After you.”

Shaking his head, Akaashi enters through. They make sure to lock it again behind them. The garage is mostly empty and they’re not really scavenging for supplies at the moment, so they hurry through the next door into the house. Almost immediately they split up to search the house, though Akaashi’s not really sure what could be lurking inside a locked house. That’s not true. There could be a number of things, but instead of thinking of all of those possibilities he searches for them. Both have their guns out.

But they find nothing. The only thing off-putting is the foul smell, a combination of old food and dirty river water that clings to them

Together, they block off the front door with a heavy looking desk from the nearby study and then return to the kitchen’s door to the garage. They settle of using the refrigerator, which isn’t too far from the door. Very slowly, they heave it in front of the door.

Akaashi sighs in relief now that the house is secured and they’re safe. It feels like he’s been holding his breath all day. They could both use a good night’s sleep and he’s just about to suggest it when Bokuto breaks the silence first.

“Let me patch up your arm like I promised,” he says. “Sit there on the table. I’ll look around for supplies.”

Before Akaashi can protest, he’s off and Akaashi has no choice but to do as he’s told. He shrugs off his jacket and hangs it on the back of one of the chairs. Gently, he peels the sleeve of his shirt off his arm before lifting it up over his head. Now free of obstacles, he can clearly see the cut and it’s bad. It’s swollen in the past few hours and he can see just how deep it is. Plus its covered in dirt from the riverbank. Fortunately, it’s no longer bleeding, but Akaashi blames that on their icy plunge. From the lightness in his head, he concludes that he probably lost quite a bit of blood in the water. With nothing else to do for it, he sits himself on the table and waits for Bokuto to return.

When he does, he has an armful of things and wears a big grin. “This house has everything!” he enthuses as he lays everything out on the table. He’s found peroxide, a few shirts for bandages, a needle, and thread.

Akaashi shivers at the sight of the last few items. “I don’t think it’s bad enough to need stitches, Bokuto.”

But Bokuto shakes his head, running the thread between his lips before lining it up with the needle’s eye. “Just trust me on this, Akaashi,” he says with a smile.

“Do you know how to stitch up a wound?” He frowns and hopes it’s not too obvious that he’s trying to delay the inevitable. He’s never had to get stitches before, even after the outbreak. The most important thing in the beginning was to not get bit. And even if they had serious wounds, their solution was always just to pour peroxide on it if they could find some and bandage it up.

“Definitely,” Bokuto says, nodding confidently. “Now, just let me clean it up and get your wrists first.”

He pours the peroxide on the wounds and dabs it up with on of the spare shirts he brought. Neither of them cares much as it drips onto the floor. They don’t plan on staying long after all. Akaashi grits his teeth at the sting and burn of the peroxide on his wrists. Bokuto casts him a worried glance.

“I’m going to wrap them up now,” he says.

Akaashi sees that he’s already ripped up some shirts into strips. They’ll work well enough as bandages. Bokuto covers up Akaashi’s wrists and ties them off. They still hurt under the firm pressure, but it’s a relief to see them bandaged up properly.

“Now for the hard part,” Bokuto says, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He stares intently at the cut.

Akaashi sighs. “Well, let’s hurry up and get it over with.”

Bokuto cleans it like his wrists, dabbing at it to make sure it’s dry in order to stitch up. This time, Akaashi’s eyes water at the pain. The cut is much more serious than the other wounds and he dreads the idea of it being stitched with an ordinary needle and thread. Of course, Bokuto doesn’t have many other options. As Bokuto goes through the process of cleaning the needle, he takes quick glances between Akaashi, his arm, and around the room, not sure whether to make or avoid eye contact. He lines up the needle at the top of the cut and hesitates.

“So this is really going to hurt.”

Akaashi hopes that’s what he’s nervous about instead of the stitching itself. “And you’ve done this before?”

Bokuto nods once and before he can think himself out of it, plunges the needle into Akaashi’s arm to the left of the cut. Akaashi yells out in shock more than pain, but the realization of how much it hurts only takes a few more seconds. By then, Bokuto is moving the needle through the cut to the other side and pulling the needle back out.

Reaching out, Akaashi grips hold of Bokuto’s shoulder, unaware of how his nails dig through his shirt. His focus is on his arm and how he can’t drag his eyes away from Bokuto’s nimble fingers skillfully handling the needle. Though he’s shaky, he looks much better at this than Akaashi had first thought. His stomach lurches the next time the needle pushes through, this time drawing blood. The cut’s begun to open again and bleed. He turns his eyes away and they get caught by Bokuto’s face. His eyes are lidded and his mouth forms a grimly determined line as he works. Although his hand firmly holds Akaashi’s arm to steady it and the other pulls the needle through another stitch, he looks so far away. Even though Akaashi’s grip on his shoulder is so tight, Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice. If Akaashi were to speak, would he respond?

But Akaashi can’t speak. All he can do is grind his teeth while Bokuto does his careful and painstaking work.

He tries not to focus on it, tries to think of anything else, but it’s like a magnet. His brain is hyperaware of exactly what Bokuto’s doing. He can feel the thread move and pull and tug on his skin, the blood slide down his arm and into the crook of his elbow. There’s a split second where he can curse himself for being so stupid for allowing that kid to get so close with a knife, but then Bokuto prods into the cut with the needle again. Through squinting eyes, he watches it and hopes it’s for the last time.

Akaashi’s panting by the time Bokuto finishes the last stitch. He brings out his knife and carefully cuts the thread, trying not to tug too hard on it. Realizing he’s been clinging to Bokuto, Akaashi withdraws his hand while Bokuto dabs gently at the blood before wrapping it similarly to Akaashi’s wrists.

He looks up with a bright smile after tying it off. Akaashi’s face heats up with how close they’ve gotten through the whole process. He blames it on the pain. That’s why the blood’s rushing to his face.

“All done,” Bokuto says cheerfully. “I told you I’d patch you all up, didn’t I?”

Akaashi swallows and nods. He looks away and they’re silent for a moment. When he glances back up, Bokuto’s eyes are on his cheek and he’s frowning ever so slightly. Akaashi has to glance down at his lips to see his expression better. Slowly, Bokuto’s hand comes up and gently wipes at the spot with his thumb. Akaashi realizes embarrassingly that he must still have sand on his face from earlier.

Red in the face, he ducks away and Bokuto takes a step back, still smiling.

“I’ll go grab some water for you,” he announces. “Where’d you place your bag at?”

“On the um—” Akaashi takes a second to collect his thoughts. “On the couch.”

Bokuto nods and leaves the kitchen.

Rubbing his face roughly, Akaashi releases the breath he had been holding. He hopes he never has to need stitches again. He can still feel it throbbing painfully under the shirt’s bandage. He can still feel the pull of the needle through his skin. He can still feel the heat from how close Bokuto’s face had been—

He shakes his head and pulls on his hair as he runs his fingers through it. He finds more sand and tries to brush it off. What he’d give for a shower right about now.

A loud thud draws Akaashi out of his thoughts quickly. His head jerks up and he quickly pushes himself off the table. In the living room he finds Bokuto on the ground along with his backpack. Heart pounding, Akaashi rushes over and turns him on his back, fingers searching for his pulse immediately. He must have collapsed, fainted or something.

He’s fine. His heartbeat thumps along healthy enough Akaashi finds, but, planting both hands on either side of his face and then one on his forehead, Bokuto is far warmer than normal. He must have a fever, Akaashi assumes. His face feels as though it’s on fire.

Akaashi grabs Bokuto from under his arms and lifts him up onto the couch, settling him there. The water from the bottle in his backpack is cold enough. He takes it into the kitchen and, over the sink, pours it onto one of the shirt strips. He folds it neatly and goes back to Bokuto. Sweat has gathered on his brow and Akaashi wipes at it gently before placing it there.

In the bathroom, Akaashi looks through the medicine cabinet, where he assumes Bokuto had found the peroxide. He goes through the different pill bottles, searching for something to help with a fever. They’re fortunate to have found such a secure house that’s never been looted. He doesn’t know how they’d get by otherwise. His arm might have gotten infected eventually and Bokuto’s fever could have turned a lot worse. It still could. He finds pills for fevers and quickly returns to Bokuto. He must have gotten sick from the river. It makes sense. Akaashi just hopes he doesn’t drop along with him. Someone has to take care of both of them.

He sits on the coffee table that’s in front of the couch. It’ll be easier to wait for Bokuto to come to instead of trying to get the pills down his throat while he’s out of it. Akaashi sets the bottle of pills and the half filled water bottle down next to him.

The weariness of the long day tugs at his eyelids, but he forces himself to stay awake. He has all night to sleep. Right now, he needs to watch over Bokuto and make sure he gets these pills into him before they can both sleep through the night.

**———**

“Akaashi?”

Bokuto’s sleepy voice jerks Akaashi from his sleep. He jerks awake and realizes that he had fallen asleep sitting cross-legged on the coffee table. His back and neck ache. He figures it’s been at least an hour or so. He wipes dried drool from his chin and, recalling his thoughts, looks back to Bokuto.

“You have a really bad fever, Bokuto. Here,” he hands two pills and the bottle of water to him, “take these.”

Bokuto sits up a little straighter to swallow the pills down. Akaashi grabs the damp shirt from his forehead before it can fall. It’s really warm from the fever.

“Are you feeling any better?” he asks.

Bokuto shakes his head, laying back down and throwing an arm over his eyes.

“That’s okay. Go to sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything.”

It’s quiet and Akaashi rubs out the cramped muscles in his neck, though it doesn’t do much. His arm aches bad, so do his wrists, just not as much, but there’s really nothing he can do for them. The best thing he can do is get some sleep like Bokuto.

“Can you tell me a story?” Bokuto’s voice breaks the silence and comes across in a slow drawl. “You know, from before?”

Akaashi wonders if it’s the fever. He gets up and pulls an afghan from the nearby armchair and tuck is around him. “Sure,” he says.

He pulls the coffee table out from the middle of the room so he can lay down on the floor next to Bokuto. He wracks his brain for a good story to tell him, not that Bokuto’s likely to remember it in the morning. Still, he tries to think of something—something that’s not…this. Anything that’s completely different from how things are now.

“Have you ever been to the ocean, Bokuto?”

Bokuto shakes his head again, his face still hidden under his arm. “Parents never took me.”

So Akaashi starts telling him about the trip he and his family took when he was just a kid. He tells Bokuto about how blue the water was, how the waves had almost knocked him over a few times. He and Kiyoko had chased the fish around in the shallows, trying to catch them with their hands. Bokuto laughs a little at that, but he still seems disoriented by the fever. Akaashi continues to talk, hoping to lull him back to sleep, hoping the pills will work overnight.

He tells Bokuto about how he and his dad had tried to fly a kite, but it was too windy and it kept crashing into the sand. Then they were attacked by seagulls and lost most of their lunch. It was his mom’s idea to have a picnic on the beach. They didn’t make that mistake again.

Somewhere along listening to Akaashi, Bokuto turns his face to watch him, his eyes blurry, but there’s a distinct kind of sadness and longing there that Akaashi can’t ignore.

He stops his story after the seagulls, not sure what else to say now that Bokuto is watching him.

His heart feels heavy in his chest. Lying on his back, it feels like it’s a weight pushing down on him, but it’s manageable. It’s not like those first few weeks when he was worried about everyone and everything. He’s learned to manage that feeling of not having control. At least he can talk about it. Thoughts of his parents don’t bother him as much anymore. The thought of unknowing has long faded and turned into a sort of acceptance. Kiyoko still stings, but it’s scary how fast those intense feelings have faded from what they were just days ago. Akaashi has adapted to this world and that’s not a comforting thought. Death is too close, always there, so close that it barely even fazes most these days.

“Do you miss them?” Bokuto asks in a small voice.

“Yes,” Akaashi responds. “All the time. But it’s better now.”

Bokuto nods and closes his eyes. Akaashi does, too, and it doesn’t take long for his exhaustion to drag him to sleep.

**———**

Panicked breaths force him awake. The room is gray with early morning light as Akaashi opens his eyes. He finds Bokuto thrashing about on the couch in his sleep above him. Sitting up, Akaashi places a hand on his shoulder, hoping to gently pull him awake and not make things worse. Bokuto’s eyes snap wide and he looks around the room in a frenzy. Akaashi sees his eyes land on the blocked door and his breathing turns from pants to hyperventilating. Moving to sit up on the couch beside him, Akaashi just barely squeezes on the edge, both hands on each of Bokuto’s shoulder now.

“Bokuto, you’re safe, everything is fine,” he says into Bokuto’s ear, trying to rub his shoulder reassuringly. “It was just a dream.”

Bokuto still trembles under his hands as he tries to take slower breaths. Sometimes they catch in his throat and he loses the rhythm, but slowly it starts to work. As he calms, Akaashi presses the back of his hand to Bokuto’s forehead. He’s still too warm.

“You’ll be alright,” he murmurs, curling an arm around Bokuto now and pressing his side up against him. He hopes it helps in some way. Kuroo always said Akaashi was the last person to go to for comfort. Like hugging a brick wall, Akaashi thinks he said once. Of course, he was only joking, but still.

His heart pounds in his ear and he feels like Bokuto’s heat is transferring to him again. Part of him suggests it’s from being so close to Bokuto again and that his fever has nothing to do with it, but the other part asks why that is and says it’s just from waking up so suddenly.

Bokuto sighs and Akaashi can feel that he’s stopped shaking. “Thanks, Akaashi. I’m fine now.”

Akaashi withdraws his arm and moves away slightly. He’ll think about those thoughts later, he decides. “Bad dream?” he asks and Bokuto nods.

“You could say that.” His eyes are already drooping again. Akaashi grabs the water and pushes it into his hands.

“Here, you should drink some before you go back to sleep.”

Hydrating is the best way to get rid of an illness. Akaashi remembers his mom telling him that when he was really sick once in junior high. He just hopes they have enough water to keep Bokuto hydrated.

Akaashi makes up his mind that he won’t be able to fall back asleep so while Bokuto settles back into the couch, clutching the afghan around him, he goes into the kitchen to loot around. With the house being so well stocked from what Bokuto found last night, he has high hopes.

He goes through the kitchen cabinets and finds plenty of food cans that are still good. But he also finds the food that’s still rotting from where it was left years ago. That explains the smell in the house that they walked in on last night.

It looks like they’ll be staying in this house a lot longer than expected. With how sick Bokuto is, it doesn’t seem like a good idea to be moving any time soon. Akaashi doesn’t mind really. As much as he’d like to be on the road, he wouldn’t mind the extra time for his wounds to heal. While they won’t be getting any closer to Tozawa, at least the house is full of food and supplies.

If they’re going to be stuck here, Akaashi’s not quite sure what he should do. He doesn’t think he’s ever been stuck in one place without a clear goal in mind. He’s never hid out in a house for more than a few days and when they were, they were constantly strategizing and figuring out what comes next. Now he’s basically alone in this relatively small house with nothing to occupy his mind and that’s the last thing he needs. He paces around a bit, checking in on Bokuto and eating in the kitchen. They can’t take all this food with them, so his old appetite comes back, eating almost anything he can get his hands on. Someone else might call it mindless stress eating, but he’s always been like this. He just had to put a tight leash on that appetite ever since the outbreak.

Eventually, he cleans. He tells himself that there’s really no point since they won’t be here for more than a few days at most, maybe a week, but what else is he supposed to do? He doesn’t think he can simply go back to sleep and he can’t just keep eating. It’s not like there’s anything else to do except go through the house.

He separates all the usable food and stacks it in piles on the table. He finds spare garbage bags under the sink, which he stuffs everything else that’s rotten and old into. Each one he fills gets thrown into the garage where he hopes it will stop stinking up the house.

Anything else that looks helpful in any way finds its way onto the table as well. He finds a can opener in one of the drawers and a few sharp knives that could maybe come in handy. Even if they won’t, he sets them out. He’ll decide when it comes time to leave what they’ll take and leave behind. It’s best to separate anything even remotely useful out now.

It’s a small house so he doesn’t have to go through much, but it does take most of the morning and into the afternoon. Trash goes out into the garage. Anything that’s not handy or that can’t go with them stays where it is. Everything else is organized on the table or, once it starts filling up, on the floor nearby. He goes through his findings and organizes them multiple times. Once again, he’s running out of tasks to do. So he sits down and meticulously starts off placing them with what they’re most likely going to take down to the least likely. Half an hour goes by before he decides against it and starts over again, creating separate piles of food, medicine, weapons, and anything else instead. It’s around late afternoon by the time he’s done looking through most of the house and organizing.

Akaashi takes one last look at the table. There’s still quite a bit of medicine that could be good to have down the road, especially if what happened yesterday happens again. There’s also enough food just in case they can’t locate any within the upcoming weeks. If they ration well, it should last a while. Plus he even found a spare backpack for Bokuto. He’ll be able to carry his own personal stuff, meaning the comic book and hair gel if he still has them, along with all the stuff Akaashi’s found. They’ll be able to carry twice as much now.

With his mind busy on the house, Akaashi hasn’t really had to think about Bokuto. Now that he slows down, the thoughts from last night come pouring in and, try as he might, he just can’t shake them away.

There was one other time he felt like that. He remembers it clearly. Though that thought hardly reassures him. If anything, the memories make it worse.

It was when they went to nationals for the first time during his second year of high school. He had just started playing as a regular. He remembers it was right after they’d won a really important game and were heading to the finals. The crowd was cheering. Their coach was grinning proudly. It was the farthest they’d gone in years.

They had just thanked their fans and Sarukui and Komi were practically crying, they were smiling that hard. Akaashi remembers the weightlessness in his chest. Everything they’d done, all those long hours of practice, had finally paid off. Then Konoha had come running over, leaping at him in a hug. Completely knocked him over. The entire team caught on and dog-piled on top of them, crushing him and Konoha together. He remembers how warm he felt, laughing with Konoha, and the loud thumping of his heart in his chest and it had nothing to do with the game they had just won.

Akaashi sighs and allows the memory to fade. He can still hear the crowd and the team cheering. Is that what he’s feeling now? Looking at how everything’s turned out since then, he certainly hopes not. He goes back into the living room to check on Bokuto, but then lays down on the smaller couch. He has to curl up so his legs don’t hang over the arm. Bokuto has the longer one, but he doesn’t mind. Akaashi watches him for a bit while he snores. He’s sleeping much more peacefully now. Akaashi’s glad.

**———**

Later in the evening, Akaashi decides to wake Bokuto and try to get some food into him. He brings him a can of soap and a spoon and softly shakes him awake. While he accepts the food and eats slowly, Bokuto’s not really up for conversation. Beyond the small bites of food he takes, he sits and sulks silently. Akaashi checks his temperature again, hand pressed to his forehead. The fever’s still there. If the pills are working, there’s no outward proof just yet.

Once Bokuto refuses to eat anymore, Akaashi persuades him to take more medicine. At first he pouts, sticking his bottom lip out and refusing until the second before Akaashi’s about to give up. Then he swallows down the pill before promptly falling back asleep. More than a bit frustrated, Akaashi does the same.

In the morning, he gets back to cleaning. He finds a broom and a mop and cleans the floors, sweeping up all the dirt and wiping away the muddy footprints from their first night. It takes most of the morning. He eats more food and by then Bokuto is awake as well, happier, but still not as talkative. He’s more willing to eat, too, and doesn’t complain when it comes time to take the pills. He watches while Akaashi goes around to dust.

“Why?” Bokuto pipes up at some point, his mouth full.

“Something to do,” Akaashi replies as he takes his own break to eat with Bokuto, shoveling in twice as much and still hungry for more. He convinces himself to slow down and save the food just in case.

“You like cleaning?” Bokuto’s eyebrows are raised skeptically.

Akaashi shakes his head, remembering his dirty room both at home and his flat at university. These days he doesn’t have much that clutters up, but his place back in Shizuoka could still have had a good cleaning. “Not particularly.”

While Bokuto takes another nap, snoring louder than ever, Akaashi goes back over the house. He finds one door that leads to a basement where there’s even more food. It’s like these people were trying to survive the apocalypse without ever leaving home. Doesn’t look like it worked seeing how all this food is still here and they aren’t. Akaashi takes trips up and down, moving everything to the table like yesterday. There’s even bottles of water. A lucky find since they’re starting to run low.

Akaashi keeps himself busy, refusing to sit still. He cleans his wounds, checks the stitching, which is holding well, and rewraps them with new bandages of shirts he finds in the only bedroom. The swelling has gone down in his arm and his wrists are starting to scab over. He takes this as a good sign.

**———**

It’s another couple of days before Bokuto’s fever goes down and he begins feeling better. Another day and he’s up and moving around, following Akaashi through the house in search of something to do. Akaashi tries to get him to rest and drink more water to recover his strength, but that only makes Bokuto whine more. He decides to put up with it and search through the house for the hundredth time, searching every nook and cranny for something he might’ve missed. Bokuto helps, but everything he wants to take is a bit unrealistic. Akaashi has to tell him multiple times that they can’t take any board games with them. From the looks of things it seems the house’s original owner had quite the collection.

That evening, Akaashi sits at the table, going through what to pack and what to leave. They’ll probably be able to leave some time tomorrow or the next day with how much better Bokuto is doing. He had been sitting at the table as well, helping Akaashi, but he had quickly grown bored and went off to explore the house. To him it’s still something of an adventure with its hidden secrets. Of course, he’s been bedridden, or couch-ridden, and hasn’t seen it nearly as much as Akaashi has.

“Akaashi!”

Bokuto’s yell nearly causes Akaashi to drop the cans he’s holding. He takes a moment to set them down before he finds Bokuto in the bedroom. “Is something wrong?” he asks. He’s hardly worried. There’s absolutely nothing dangerous in this house. Therefore, there’s no need for Bokuto to shout like that.

“Akaashi! Look!” He’s standing in the bathroom connected to the bedroom, hand on the sink’s faucet. He turns it on and after a second of coughing and spitting, water rushes through. The house has water.

Akaashi wants to kick himself for not checking earlier. He had just assumed that this town didn’t have water anymore like most places. Quickly, his hand covers Bokuto’s and turns it off. “We don’t want to waste it,” he explains. They’ve smelled like the dirty river water for days now. A few minutes ago, Akaashi would have given anything for a shower. Now the opportunity is right in front of them. He forces himself to have patience. “Why don’t you clean up first?”

“Really?” Bokuto’s eyes light up at the idea.

His smiles and he nods. The wait is worth seeing Bokuto’s excitement. “Sure, just don’t waste all the water.”

Akaashi goes back into the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He sits on the edge of the bed to wait. Hearing the shower begin to run is music to his ears. Smiling to himself, he falls back on the bed, hands folded behind his neck. Shizuoka had gotten its water back a few years ago. Water usage was strictly overseen by the military and there were only certain times it could be used in homes, but it had been so nice to be able to shower again that Akaashi couldn’t complain. After days without it, the running water is a gift. He only wishes he had found out about it sooner.

Bokuto doesn’t take long. He comes out grinning from ear to ear. His hair flies in wild directions from being rubbed dry with a towel. “Akaashi! Akaashi!” he calls as he enters the room. Again, there’s no need to shout, but Akaashi doesn’t say anything. “There’s even hot water!”

“Sounds great,” he says with a smile, sitting up and getting to his feet. “Thank you, Bokuto.”

And it is great. The water pressure is lacking, but Akaashi doesn’t care. It’s not exactly hot, he’d say, but lukewarm is still just as good. Soap has been laid out. Bokuto probably found it. Akaashi makes sure to get every grain of sand out of his hair and scrubs until his skin is raw, that way he knows for sure he won’t smell like that river again.

Once he dires off and comes back to the bedroom, Bokuto is already curled up under the covers. He springs up when he hears Akaashi coming.

“We can sleep here tonight, can’t we?” he pleads. “I’m not sick anymore and I bet you’re tired of sleeping on that couch.”

Well, he isn’t wrong. Akaashi nods. “That’s fine, Bokuto.”

He takes a moment to retrieve his bag from the kitchen and sets his gun and flashlight out on the side table, just in case. He’s been sleeping with it near him every night. He wouldn’t want to slip up now and forget. Seeing him do this, Bokuto scurries out of the room to do the same, bringing back the gun Akaashi had given him. He slides in beside Akaashi and takes in a deep breath, releasing it with a huff.

“We smell nice.”

Akaashi raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying I smell bad normally, Bokuto?”

“What? No! I didn’t mean that, Akaashi!” he exclaims, eyes widening in alarm. At Akaashi’s laughter, it clicks and he starts to laugh along. “That was a joke? Akaashi! I thought you were serious.”

Akaashi smiles at him and settles down under the covers, facing Bokuto while he does the same.

“I didn’t know you could joke like that,” Bokuto mutters while he pulls the covers all the way up over his shoulders. “You’ve got a great poker face, you know, Akaashi?”

He smiles again. “Good night, Bokuto.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Bokuto whispers playfully shoving his feet into Akaashi’s.

Akaashi shivers at how cold they are, but still laughs.

**———**

Something whacking him across his face jolts Akaashi awake. He reaches out quickly and almost has the gun in his hand when he realizes it’s only Bokuto. Turning around in his sleep, he fidgets and mumbles incoherently under his breath. Akaashi leans closer to try to hear, but is unsuccessful. Suddenly, Bokuto sits up, nearly knocking heads with Akaashi, who leans back just in time. He pants and glances around until he finds Akaashi. His breathing slows ever so slightly.

“Another nightmare?” Akaashi asks once it seems Bokuto has calmed down.

Swallowing, he nods wordlessly, eyes still wide and his lips pursed.

Sighing, Akaashi pushes himself to sit further up in bed. He feels wide-awake, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and doesn’t think he’ll be going back to sleep any time soon. “Do you want to talk about it?” he offers.

Again Bokuto is silent, not looking at him now. He spares him swift glance, but then just as quickly looks away. ”Just bad dreams,” he mutters in a hushed voice. His eyes lift to settle on Akaashi. “I dream that I’m infected. Then I wake up and I—” He pauses, biting his lip, but not dropping his gaze. “And I just panic. Sorry.”

“But you’re immune. You don’t have to worry about that.”

Bokuto shakes his head roughly. “Doesn’t matter. I still have those dreams. And then I see the door’s blocked and—” He shrugs instead of continuing.

“What does the door have to do with anything?” Akaashi asks.

“When I was bit the first time, I went to Daichi. I thought he’d help somehow. I already knew I wasn’t affected the same way. Most people think I’m stupid, but I’m not. I waited it out. I stayed in the mall and waited to turn. I wasn’t going to endanger other people. But then when nothing happened, I knew something was different. So Daichi locked us up in his house. He said no matter what, the bookcase had to stay in front of the door. It could be taking longer for the symptoms to show and we were in a compound with other people. And Daichi eventually had to go work and then it was just me. And I kept the door blocked just like he told me to. But every night I went to sleep I thought I’d turn before I woke up and it was terrifying.”

Akaashi wasn’t expecting this from him. He’s speechless for a moment before he opens his mouth to speak—

“Look, I get it,” Bokuto says, cutting him off. “I understand why he did it and why we do it wherever we go. It’s just…I thought I was going to turn into one of those things, right after I started thinking I might be different. Eventually, Daichi figured I must be immune so he planned to take me to the other Crows. And a week later, I met you.”

Akaashi still doesn’t really know what to say. “I’m sorry, Bokuto.”

Bokuto smiles a bit at him and pats his hand. “They’re only dreams, Akaashi. I know I’m safe.”

Akaashi remembers how he thought Bokuto slept peacefully, but here he has his own nightmares. He can’t imagine waiting around and wondering whether or not you’d turn. Then he remembers what he had said to Bokuto after Kiyoko. He feels his face heat up in shame. He doesn’t think he can find the words to apologize.

Bokuto traces the scar on his right wrist over with his fingers. “I have more, you know,” he says quietly. “See?” He pulls his legs out from under the covers and rolls up the left leg. There’s another similar bite on his ankle and one further up on his calf. Then he pulls back his right sleeve and shows another just above his elbow.

Reaching out a hesitant hand, Akaashi goes to touch the one on his arm, but then he pulls it back. “Did these all happen at the same time?”

“Yup, when I was at that mall in Shizuoka.”

“And you were all on your own.”

“Uh-huh, yeah.” His head bobs up and down. “I was on my own.”

“That must’ve been scary, Bokuto.” Then something else catches Akaashi’s eyes. There’s another scar on the top of Bokuto’s forearm that definitely doesn’t look like a bite. It’s white and jagged. He gestures subtly to it. “Where is that one from?”

Bokuto’s eyes widen and, instinctively, he goes to cover it up with a hand before he catches himself and stops. “It’s from before,” he says, his eyes glued to the scar.

Suddenly, he remembers Bokuto’s words from back at Ukai’s. _But then I got to get out of Shizuoka with you, Akaashi! That’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to me!_ Shifting closer, Akaashi asks, “What happened, Bokuto?”

He runs a finger over the edges of the scar. “This was from my dad,” he says, shrugging it off as soon as the words leave his mouth.

Everything’s silent and Akaashi doesn’t feel like he’s sitting in the same room anymore. His tongue is suddenly dry in his mouth.

“One night he came in really drunk and I still have no idea where he’d gotten the broken bottle and he just threw it at me and, well, I had to learn how to patch myself up somehow—that’s how I knew to stitch you up. He always wanted perfect grades, so I think that’s what probably set him off that night. Plus he thought volleyball was a waste of time, time I could and should have been putting into my classes.

“On the day of the outbreak, he wouldn’t let me go to practice and I was just so upset. I mean, we yelled a lot, but he wouldn’t change his mind. Now, there were a lot of kids in my neighborhood with family drama so we had this teacher, our math and history teacher, who always said his door was open. Literally, too. My one friend’s parents were going through a rough divorce so he’d spend a few nights there and my other friend was always getting into trouble and he’d go there when he didn’t want to face his mom. So that night, I packed my bags and I left to go to Daichi’s. That’s how I knew him before. I thought I’d go for a few nights—I was just so angry. But then news of the virus happened just when I left and most of Shizuoka was evacuated to our side of the city. I never found out what happened to them after that.”

There it is, Bokuto’s backstory essentially laid out in front of him and Akaashi doesn’t even know what to say. This is why he said he didn’t do backstories. Bokuto rocks back and forth a bit with his knees drawn up to his chest. His face is red, he looks almost embarrassed and he keeps shooting tiny looks Akaashi’s way, waiting for his reaction. Finally, he settles on staring at his toes, which wiggle nervously.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” he says just as Akaashi slowly wraps his arms around him.

He draws in a deep breath and pulls Bokuto closer. He obliges willingly and settles his head on Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi stiffens for a moment before he relaxes into it. “No one should have to go through that,” he says quietly and Bokuto cranes his neck to look up at him.

“It’s not fair,” Bokuto mumbles, turning to bury his face into Akaashi’s shirt. “Nobody wants to say they prefer this to the way things are now.” He pauses and sniffs a bit. “But I do.”

With his free hand, Akaashi runs his fingers through Bokuto’s hair. “I understand now, Bokuto, and I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise to do whatever I can to keep you safe.”

Bokuto nods into Akaashi’s chest.

They sit like that for a while, Akaashi’s not sure how long. At some point, Bokuto’s weight drags on him and Akaashi realizes that he’s started to fall back asleep. As if frozen, he allows Bokuto to pull him down and automatically his arms loop around Akaashi.

Becoming aware of their new position, Bokuto starts to pull back, waking slightly. “I’m sorry, I just—”

Akaashi stays frozen, his arms drawn into his chest, but he says, “It’s fine. Whatever you want, Bokuto.”

He feels Bokuto’s breath of relief on the back of his neck and his arms go limp around him. Akaashi begins to relax, too, and when he feels the soft puffs of breath of Bokuto sleeping, he carefully pulls the blankets back over both of them.

Still not tired, he draws his fingers over Bokuto’s arms that are now in front of him, lightly and carefully at first. They run over the bite on his wrist, following around the curves and bumps, and then up to the one near his elbow. He even builds his courage to touch the jagged scar. It’s sharp and much different than the others. Leaving it, he finds veins near his wrists and traces them up his other arm until his fingers bump over a new scar, this one long and straight. He immediately pulls his fingers back.

He stays still for a long time before he slowly ventures back. He avoids that scar, but searches for others, his heart pounding until he confirms that there are no more. He grips Bokuto’s hands tightly, locking down his wandering fingers, and squeezes his eyes shut.

Silently, he makes a promise to himself. He’s going to protect Bokuto, no matter what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next is a very tiny time jump, so you might be able to guess what that means.
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
> [Title Song](http://youtube.com/watch?v=SsarW80rrz8)


	7. Bird With A Broken Wing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out these amazing pieces of art! [amoxli's](http://amoxli.tumblr.com) [Akaashi](http://amoxli.tumblr.com/post/142403605441/doodling-akaashi-thru-my-tears-after-reading) and [swallowtail-butterflys'](http://swallowtail-butterflys.tumblr.com) [Iwaizumi and Kiyoko](http://swallowtail-butterflys.tumblr.com/post/142402832789/this-is-the-start-of-how-it-all-ends-they-used-to)

_May, 2021_

“Please tell me we’re close, Akaashi,” Bokuto whines.

“Shouldn’t be too much further.” He’s not sure actually. He could take out the map again, but it would probably be a waste of time. He knows that they’re heading in the right direction, but Bokuto has been asking the same questions for days now. They are close, today at least, but just maybe not Bokuto’s standards of close. Akaashi hopes that telling him so will keep him from asking for another couple of minutes at least.

He can understand why Bokuto’s frustrated. They’ve seen nothing but fields and forests for days now, walking along curvy dirt roads. Bokuto attempted to lead them through one area of trees. It was his turn to handle the map that day. He said he’d find them a shortcut. They ended up being pushed back a day or two in traveling. Bokuto hasn’t been allowed to touch the map since and Akaashi’s not risking taking any more shortcuts.

Akaashi wants Tozawa to be close just as much as Bokuto. The summer heat has finally reached them and they spend their days dripping in sweat. It doesn’t help that their water supply is almost gone.

His hands itch for the map, but no, they just need to keep following this road. It should take them right to Iwaizumi. If he remembers correctly, it’s just along the Mogami River. By what the map says, they should run right into it. Then they can hopefully pinpoint Iwaizumi’s location from there.

“You ready to see your friend?” Bokuto asks. “I bet you’re really excited.” He winks at Akaashi before rubbing at the sweat on his face, dragging it up through his hair and spiking it halfheartedly. About a week ago, Akaashi got him to finally stop using the gel. It was a waste since they would be practically out in the wilderness like this. He told him to save it for a better time.

Is he excited? Akaashi doesn’t know. He wouldn’t call the feeling in his stomach excitement. More like anticipation. Anxiety. “I’d rather just get there first, Bokuto.”

“You’re probably nervous is all. Don’t worry, Akaashi!” Bokuto pats him hard on the back before leaving it there in a comforting manner.

It’s too hot for that, Akaashi thinks.

“You should practice what you’re going to say. Run over different scenarios in your head. That always helps me! Here. I’ll be him and you can be you—of course—and we can talk it through.” He pauses in the middle of the road, squaring off to face Akaashi. His hands are planted on his hips and he wears that big stupid grin on his face. Never in a million years could Akaashi pretend Bokuto’s Iwaizumi.

Akaashi smiles appreciatively, but continues walking past Bokuto. “Thank you, Bokuto, but I don’t think that will help.”

Bokuto hurries to catch up, matching his pace to Akaashi’s. “Well, what’s he like? I can totally act.”

“I’d rather not,” Akaashi says, smiling politely again. “And I’m not nervous, but—I don’t know.”

They continue on for a bit, Bokuto looking thoughtful and Akaashi hoping that the conversation has ended. They round another bend in the road, heading slightly uphill. He’s starting to get thirsty, but he ignores it, knowing that they really need to ration the last of their water just in case.

“So you obviously don’t think this is going to be some happy reunion,” Bokuto remarks, speaking up after apparently gathering his thoughts. “Why? What happened between you two? I mean, you said you guys are friends. Or was that _were_ friends.”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean, Bokuto.”

“Well, like you and Kuroo are friends and you guys were together and when you separated, you made plans to meet back up. You and this Iwaizumi guy aren’t together anymore so…” Bokuto trails off, lifting his eyebrows expectantly at Akaashi to continue.

Akaashi thinks about this for a moment, trying to decide on the right words. “We were together at first, but then we just took different paths. He decided to go to Tozawa, like he had wanted, and I decided to stay in Shizuoka. And, well, he wished I hadn’t.”

“So then,” Bokuto starts off slowly, “you didn’t part on good terms?”

“He’d just assumed I wanted to go to Tozawa, too, but that changed after—after the night of the outbreak and I didn’t ever tell him. Honestly, I forgot about those plans. There wasn’t anything for me in Tozawa. It was different for him.”

Bokuto hums thoughtfully. “And you guys mentioned he had something to do with the Crows?”

Akaashi nods. “They all did at one point or another and now I guess they’ve got me wrapped up in the Crows’ plans, too. But yes, just like everyone else, Iwaizumi went to them during that rough winter. I suppose now he was just biding his time before leaving.” Shrugging, he absentmindedly kicks a rock along the road. “At some point, he probably believed in the Crows. A lot of other people did. They promised vaccines and a cure and better living conditions and, just like everyone else, Iwaizumi was disappointed when those promises never came true.”

“And what’s in Tozawa anyway?”

Akaashi glances over at Bokuto, his mouth twisting thoughtfully. “Something precious.”

Before Bokuto can ask more on the matter, the road stops at an impressive concrete wall. Akaashi doubts it was here before and he wonders how they got something so sturdy in place without military involvement. The last he knew, Tozawa was military-free.

He leads Bokuto up to the large sliding gate. He tries to pull the handle, but, just like he thought, it’s sealed up tight.

The clicking of guns being cocked alerts him first, but then there’s a voice.

“Yaho!” it sings down to them, then continues in a more serious, almost sharp, tone. “Put your guns down. Him, too.”

The barrel of a shotgun jabs in Bokuto’s direction. Over his shoulder, Akaashi sees that Bokuto already has his gun out and aimed at the person. Akaashi looks back while nudging Bokuto to put his gun down. “Do as he says,” he murmurs.

Bokuto frowns, but tucks his gun away and raises his hands to show he’s unarmed.

“Tell me you’re lost,” the guy behind the shotgun sighs. He has brown hair that looks surprisingly well kept, considering the circumstances. Akaashi doesn’t recognize him. He’s also not quite sure how anyone could end up lost out here. They’re in the middle of nowhere with barely any roads around. He doubts there are many people simply wandering around.

“Just passing through,” he calls up. “We’re looking for someone.”

The guy doesn’t drop his aim, eying them suspiciously, until Akaashi hears Iwaizumi’s voice. It’s been years, but he definitely knows it’s him.

“It’s fine, Oikawa. Relax.”

Oikawa’s head whips around, his frown deepening. “What, you know them?”

Akaashi doesn’t hear Iwaizumi respond, but Oikawa disappears from the wall, casting one last glare down at them. A minute later, the big gate in front of them slides open. Iwaizumi walks out with the guy he’d called Oikawa not far behind. His face is open now, curious. Iwaizumi must have said something to him.

“I didn’t expect to ever see you here, Akaashi,” Iwaizumi says, smiling at the sight of him. To Akaashi’s surprise, he’s pulled into a hug, to which he gives an awkward pat on the back in return. But he smiles when Iwaizumi pulls away. He hasn’t changed much in the years they’ve been apart. If anything, he even looks better than he had in Shizuoka.

“Iwaizumi, it’s good to see you,” he says. “I hadn’t expected to be here either.”

“So this is Akaashi.” Oikawa comes near and looks him over closely. “I never thought I’ve have the pleasure.”

Iwaizumi jerks his head in Oikawa’s direction. “This is Oikawa. He’s an old friend of mine.”

“Old friend?” Oikawa questions in a pout, but before he can say more, Iwaizumi interrupts.

“Be nice,” he grumbles before explaining to Akaashi, “He’s kind of in charge around here so I guess that means you should listen to him.”

Akaashi nods and bows slightly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Oikawa rolls his eyes. “You have such a way with words, Iwa-chan. And you are?” He glances between Bokuto and Iwaizumi. “Another friend?”

At Iwaizumi’s shrug and shake of the head, Akaashi steps in to explain. “This is Bokuto. He’s traveling with me.”

“And what brings you through here?” Oikawa asks, his eyes on Bokuto. The question is innocent enough, nothing beyond conversational, but Akaashi can tell that Oikawa certainly knows how to read people. Out of the two of them, Bokuto would be the one most likely to tell the truth or slip in a lie if they were hiding something. Akaashi doesn’t think it’s coincidence that Oikawa directs his question at him.

But Akaashi doesn’t have to worry. Maybe he’s rubbed off on Bokuto, even just a little, because Bokuto laughs and rubs the back on his neck.

“Well, it’s a long story really.”

Oikawa looks to Iwaizumi, eyebrows raised. Iwaizumi frowns and pushes him lightly. “Oh relax, would you?” he mutters under his breath, then to Bokuto and Akaashi, “Let’s head inside. It’s safer and I bet you two are tired. It’s not an easy trek up here.”

“I’m starving,” Bokuto says and Akaashi can hear the excitement in his voice. It’ll be nice to sleep indoors tonight.

Iwaizumi closes and locks the gate behind them. While Bokuto goes on ahead to follow Oikawa, who calls out the false alarm, Akaashi matches his pace with Iwaizumi.

“Did it take you very long?” Iwaizumi asks. “I’m assuming you came from Shizuoka.”

Akaashi shrugs. “It took us longer than expected. We were bogged down a few times, but nothing serious. We made it.”

Iwaizumi grins at that and Akaashi thinks how nice it is to see him so happy and laid back. Even at university he seemed to always be in some kind of grumpy mood. Of course, the apartment was an absolute mess where Iwaizumi liked to be clean and organized. They really couldn’t blame him for being in a bad mood when he came home to a sink full of dirty dishes and Sarukui’s jacket and socks in the middle of the hall.

“Really, Akaashi, I wouldn’t have thought you’d come. It’s good to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to run into you so soon. Thought we’d find you further along the river.”

“That’s where we are,” Iwaizumi says with a nod. “A few of us came down to work on the plant.”

“We had it going a few days ago, but—” Oikawa shrugs, shaking his head. He falls back having heard the change in conversation, leaving Bokuto to do the same. “We’ll get it up and running eventually.”

“Can you believe it?” Iwaizumi says with another easygoing smile. “We had electricity, just for a few hours, but still.”

Oikawa nods confidently. “And soon we’ll have it all the time using the river. The military has their generators and batteries, but we’ll show them we can do it without their help.”

“Whoa!” Bokuto interrupts. Akaashi spots him just as he goes running off. “Look, Akaashi!”

He follows where Bokuto had run off to and finds horses. He glances at Iwaizumi as he and Oikawa catch up. “Horses?” he asks with his eyebrows raised.

“We found them not too longer after I got here, left behind at an abandoned trail riding place not too far away,” Iwaizumi replies.

“You can pet one if you like,” Oikawa says to Bokuto with a smile

“So cool!” Bokuto gushes, causing the man holding the horse’s reigns to tense.

“Calm down,” he grumbles. “You’ll scare her.”

Bokuto hesitates in reaching out to touch the horse, unsure how to proceed.

Oikawa turns his smile to the man. “Relax, Mad Dog-chan! I’m sure no harm come to your horse.”

The horse’s owner, Mad Dog, Oikawa had said, still stays tense, refusing to back down under Oikawa’s happy gaze.

“Kyoutani, it will be fine,” Iwaizumi says.

He nods at Iwaizumi. “Right,” he says, handing the reigns over to Oikawa, who deflates under their exchange.

Gaining confidence, Bokuto’s eyes shine as he follows Oikawa’s instructions to stroke the horse’s neck with Kyoutani watching closely. Akaashi spots two other horses with owners nearby.

Iwaizumi nods to them. “They’re just about to head back to town and check in, right, Yahaba?”

The one closest to Kyoutani turns to Iwaizumi’s voice. “Yeah, then we’ll be back before nightfall and switch off with you. Ready?” he asks his other two companions. Kyoutani takes the reigns back from Oikawa and the three head off toward the gate. “You need to be more respectful toward Oikawa, Kentarou. He has enough to stress about without you,” Akaashi hears Yahaba mutter to Kyoutani, who merely grunts in response.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa take the lead, heading toward what looks to be the main building of the place. Bokuto falls in step next to Akaashi.

“Do you like the horses?” Akaashi asks.

Bokuto nods happily. “I’ve never ridden one, but I bet it’d be really cool.”

“Maybe we can ask Iwaizumi.”

“Really?” Bokuto skips a bit in step and Akaashi smiles.

“I don’t see why not. We can’t stay too long, but I’m sure we could squeeze it in before we leave.”

They’re silent while Bokuto gazes around the place in amazement. This isn’t even where they live, but it’s so well fortified. There are guards patrolling the walls and others walking about the enclosed area. They’re certainly protected up here. Plenty of people are on watch and Akaashi’s sure that back in town they’re even more secured. Iwaizumi has done a good job here with Oikawa.

Akaashi glances over at Bokuto and sighs. They can’t stay here long, either of them. For days now, the idea has been plaguing him, but now he’s going to have to decide, and soon. He needs to talk to Iwaizumi.

“Do you really think I’m old, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asks Iwaizumi up ahead, but he’s loud enough for Akaashi to overhear. He sees Oikawa spread his fingers over his face as if searching for hidden wrinkles or age marks.

Iwaizumi slaps his hands away. “Of course not, stupid. You look fine. I was just saying we’ve known each other for a long time.”

“I see, so now I’m just _fine_.”

While they stop at the door and Oikawa carries on his theatrics, Akaashi slides over to Iwaizumi. “So are you going by Iwa-chan these days? Is that what I should start calling you?”

Iwaizumi spares Oikawa a tired glance. “Definitely not.” He smiles a bit at Akaashi. “If you did, I’d never forgive you.”

“Ahh, I see how it is,” Akaashi says with his own tiny smile.

“Oh give it a rest,” Iwaizumi grumbles, but he smiles when he shoves Akaashi a little harder than expected. “Ready to continue the tour?”

“Absolutely!” Bokuto chirps.

As Iwaizumi opens the door, Oikawa’s radio comes to life, static crinkling until a voice comes through.

“Oikawa, we’re going to give it another go. We think we have it this time.”

Oikawa’s eyes flash eagerly at the radio in his hands, but Iwaizumi frowns at him. He plucks the radio out of his grip, ignoring Oikawa’s whines and futile attempts to steal it back.

Turning away and holding Oikawa off with one arm, Iwaizumi says into the radio, “Hanamaki, it’s Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s busy at the moment, but I’ll be up. Give me a minute.” He hands Oikawa back the radio.

“Mean, Iwa-chan,” he pouts.

Two sets of laughter come in through the radio before it cuts out.

“You’ve been up since before the sun and haven’t stopped since. Go take a break and eat,” he instructs Oikawa strictly. To Akaashi and Bokuto he says, “I’m heading over to the plant. They want to try running it again.”

Akaashi nods. “Bokuto can go eat with Oikawa. I’ll go with you.”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto whines, and Akaashi can’t help but to think how similar he sounds to Oikawa right now.

“Go eat, Bokuto,” he says. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”

Grumpily, Oikawa tugs Bokuto by his arm. “There’s no use arguing with them, Boku-chan. They’re unreasonable when they get like this.”

“ _I’m_ the unreasonable one,” Iwaizumi starts, but cuts himself off with a shake of his head.

Sticking his tongue out at Iwaizumi over his shoulder, Oikawa turns and leads Bokuto away. “I’m sure they won’t take long,” he says in a more upbeat voice, then in a lower voice, “They just want to catch up and talk about the old days. Because they’re old.”

Iwaizumi sighs, rubbing a hand over his face before he looks at Akaashi. “It’s just back through here,” he says, leading them in the opposite direction and through some back doors.

The plant sits large on the river, half of it within the wall surrounding the area. Akaashi sees now that it’s wider than it is deep and it doesn’t cover much. It makes sense why there’s too many people about. Iwaizumi was right when he said it was just a small team of them sent to work on the plant. Akaashi wonders how many more there are in town.

“Oikawa likes to overwork himself,” Iwaizumi says as they leave the other building behind. “If I don’t keep a close eye on him I bet he’d work through the night and into the next day. There’s no trusting him.”

“Iwaizumi, I need to talk to you, if you don’t mind,” Akaashi says and Iwaizumi looks at him expectantly. “Privately,” he adds, glancing around at the few people who mill about.

He nods. “Okay, Akaashi. Let’s just check on the guys first.”

There’s a bit of silence as they enter the plant. Iwaizumi starts up the stairs. Akaashi looks about, but there’s really not much to see. Iwaizumi clears his throat.

“We’re doing really well here,” he says, looking down at Akaashi over his shoulder as they climb. “Oikawa’s father started building this place and ever since he passed away, Oikawa has been in charge. That was about a month after I got here. We have families in town. Oikawa wants us to be self-sufficient so we grow our own crops and have livestock, all gathered from around the area. You saw the horses.”

They reach the top and Iwaizumi pauses in front of a door, turning to face Akaashi.

In a quieter voice, he continues, “You remember that first year? We thought things would never go back to normal. But here, it’s starting to feel like it.” He smiles and swigs the door open. It looks like it’s some kind of control room.

Two men stand at a table that looks covered in plans. They look up when Iwaizumi and Akaashi enter. “Yo,” the one with the lighter hair greets. The other gives a slight wave.

“Hanamaki and Matsukawa,” Iwaizumi introduces to Akaashi.

“So you made Oikawa take a break?” Matsukawa asks.

“Getting some beauty sleep, is he?” Hanamaki adds. The two exchange grins.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Our fate rests on these dumbasses and whether or not they can ever get the plant running.”

“Well it’s going to work this time,” Hanamaki says, crossing his arms over his chest.

Iwaizumi chuckles lightly and beckons Akaashi closer to the table.

“You don’t believe us?” Matsukawa scoffs.

“Of course I do. Just give it a go.”

Hanamaki pauses a moment, glancing down into a larger room that contains the plant’s giant turbines. At a thumbs-up from someone, he throws the switch and there’s a second before a whirring noise starts up. After a moment, the lamp above their heads flicks on. Akaashi can hear cheering from the other room below them. Hanamaki and Matsukawa are also celebrating, high-fiving and ruffing up each other’s hair. Akaashi glances over at Iwaizumi. He’s gazing up at the light, a faint smile on his lips.

“What do you know,” he says in a hushed voice to himself. “Nice work, you two. Radio Oikawa and give him the good news.”

Matsukawa gives Hanamaki a quick glance. “And hear him spew cheesy lines how much believed in us and how he knew we could do it and whatever else? I’d rather celebrate in peace for a bit.” And Hanamaki gives an agreeing laugh.

“You’ll have to keep him from running up here himself, Iwaizumi,” he says.

“Just do it,” Iwaizumi grunts.

“Yes, mom,” they chorus together.

Akaashi’s head pulses with a headache suddenly. He barely feels Iwaizumi pat him on the shoulder before leading him back through the door and down the stairs. His legs follow obediently, but numb.

_What are you, our moms?_

_Were you waiting up for us?_

_How sweet!_

Akaashi shakes his head. Trying to see straight. Iwaizumi’s talking, but it feels like he’s underwater. Everything feels so far away, except for his headache, which throbs painfully on.

_Well, if I’m your mom, would you mind doing the dishes? Your mothers have worked hard all day._

Konoha’s voice fills his ears and Akaashi curses himself silently. Stupid, he thinks. He should’ve known that being around Iwaizumi would bring up those memories again. He’d do anything to keep them locked down and out of sight.

Iwaizumi’s hand on his shoulder brings him back, though the headache is still there. “You wanted to talk?” he asks, moving to open a door at the bottom of the stairs. It’s a supply room, empty and private, ready for whatever Akaashi has to say. He nods and they go inside, the door closed behind them. The silence allows him time to clear his head.

He glances around the room. There’s not much, but duffle bags of various colors inside line up along the left of the door. Akaashi assumes this is where they keep their stuff for whatever needs to be brought back and forth from the town to the plant. Iwaizumi goes over to a green one and rifles through it. Akaashi assumes it’s his.

“You have a good thing going here,” Akaashi says at last into the silence, not sure how exactly to start talking about what needs to be said.

“It’s all thanks to the team,” Iwaizumi says with a nod, standing now that he’s found whatever he was looking for. He keeps it folded in his hands, fiddling with it ever so slightly. “Like I said, Oikawa overworks himself. Tried to do everything himself at first. Ran himself ragged. He was the first person to start working on the plant. He had no idea what he was doing, but he locked himself in here far too many nights trying to figure it out. Then I found Hanamaki and Matsukawa. Matsukawa had worked the plant before and Hanamaki knew a bit about it. We’ve made leaps and bounds since then. You can’t do everything yourself.”

Akaashi sighs and glances around awkwardly, not really knowing what to say now that he’s here. Or rather where to begin. Just as he goes to open his mouth to say something, anything, Iwaizumi starts instead.

“So I went back to Tokyo last fall,” he says a bit uneasily. “To the apartment. There wasn’t much left of course. I figured you wouldn’t be going back any time soon, so I grabbed something for you. You know, just in case.”

Akaashi can feel his stomach drop. It happened as soon as Tokyo left Iwaizumi’s lips. The one place he tries not to think about. Just another memory he wish he could lock away.

“Here.” Iwaizumi holds out what he has in his hands and, gradually, Akaashi reaches out and takes it, unfolding it. “It’s a little rough around the edges and it’s faded, but I think it still looks pretty good.”

It’s just a picture. Iwaizumi’s right, it is faded, but Akaashi doesn’t need the clarity to see what it is. He recognizes it because it used to hang on Konoha’s wall. He’d had a thing about sticking pictures on his walls. Just a few, but they were special ones. It reminded him of home, not that he was ever homesick, he’d say. No, he was perfectly happy where he was at. He just liked the memories.

Akaashi used to, too.

The picture is from that time at nationals. He remembers Konoha’s mother taking it when their family and friends came to congratulate them outside the gymnasium. They’re both smiling, which is nice. Konoha’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders and—

And he hands the picture back to Iwaizumi.

Of course he had known. Iwaizumi isn’t one to be fooled like Sarukui and Komi. There’s no hiding anything from him. He never said anything, to which Akaashi is grateful, but showing that he realized how close Akaashi and Konoha were makes him uncomfortable.

“Thank you for thinking of me, Iwaizumi.” His voice feels a little choked, but he forces it down. Hesitantly, Iwaizumi accepts the picture back.

“Are you sure?” At Akaashi’s nod, he gently tucks it away again. “I’ll just hold onto it for you then. Let me know if you change your mind.” There’s a pause and, with a huff, Iwaizumi leans back against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest. “So why did you finally leave Shizuoka?” He still knows Akaashi well enough that he knows changing the topic is a good idea.

Akaashi sighs. “We had a job and it’s been a long trip since.”

“You don’t travel with just anyone so I bet it has to do with that guy you’re with.”

“It has everything to do with Bokuto.”

“Well, you wanted to talk to me,” Iwaizumi starts. “I’m listening, Akaashi.”

Swallowing, Akaashi takes his time to get the words out. He figures it’s best to be straightforward about this. “Bokuto is immune.”

Iwaizumi scoffs. “Immune to what exactly?”

“He’s immune to the virus. He can’t get infected.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but when it does, Iwaizumi’s face scrunches up in disbelief. He’s about to protest, tell Akaashi how impossible that is, but Akaashi cuts him off.

“I’ve seen the bites. They’re months old by now.” He pauses. “We didn’t think it was real at first either, but it is, Iwaizumi.”

“Alright,” he says slowly. He looks off, biting his lip in thought before his eyes come back to settle on Akaashi. “Why did you bring him here?”

“It’s a special delivery to the Crows—you knew Daichi—and Bokuto needs to go up north. You used to be a part of the Crows, Iwaizumi. You’d know where to go. I thought you could take Bokuto to their lab, make the rest of the trip, and take the entire payment.”

But Iwaizumi’s already shaking his head before Akaashi finishes. “There’s no Crows around,” he says. “I haven’t seen one in years. Not since I came up here and quit.”

“But you know where they are,” Akaashi says almost forcefully. He holds onto this because this is the only way the job is going to get done. He can’t let it die here.

“So why do you think I should do this for you?”

Akaashi frowns. “This isn’t for _me_ , Iwaizumi. It’s the cure you were all looking for. I dragged us up here because this is your cause.”

“Not anymore,” Iwaizumi grunts. “Tozawa is my cause. My team is my cause, Akaashi. I’m not abandoning Oikawa here.”

“Then get some of your team to do it.”

“I’m not throwing anyone under the bus,” Iwaizumi says sharply. “I know that’s how the Crows work. They say they’re against the military but they have the same convictions. Sacrifice the few for the sake of the many. Well, I’m done making sacrifices for the Crows.”

Akaashi grits his teeth, feeling his grip slipping. He can’t have Iwaizumi say no. He can’t walk away from this with his hands empty. “But I need this.”

Iwaizumi stops. He gazes Akaashi over and gives an incredulous shake of his head. “Why don’t you take him, Akaashi?”

Not this question. He’d known it would come. He releases a shaky breath. “Because I can’t protect him.”

“You brought him all the way here and he looked fine to me.”

“That’s the thing. Our luck will run out eventually and I can’t protect him forever,” Akaashi says through his clenched teeth.

“Then why do you think I’d do any better?” Iwaizumi demands.

“Because you always protected us!” Akaashi nearly shouts. He’s surprised by how it still echoes off the walls, by how wide his eyes are, Iwaizumi is, but Akaashi keeps going. “You were the one with the cool head that night. You kept us together—kept us going. If it weren’t for you we would have died in that apartment.”

Iwaizumi stares at him for a moment, saying nothing, letting that silence choke Akaashi with his admission. He hasn’t felt as weak as that night, but now, standing in front of Iwaizumi telling him about it, he does. He feels small and he’s afraid of what Iwaizumi will say next. He can only hope that he’ll somehow agree to take Bokuto off his hands. Iwaizumi needs to understand that Akaashi’s not suited to protect Bokuto. He can only hope that he will. Akaashi had promised that he’d do whatever it’d take to keep Bokuto safe. Iwaizumi is the best bet for that. Akaashi can’t trust himself to look after Bokuto and if he trusts anyone completely, it’s Iwaizumi.

“Everyone I’ve taken care of and protected has died and it’s been my fault every time. Please take Bokuto. He’s too important for me to lose,” Akaashi says in a quiet voice, refusing to look at Iwaizumi.

Sighing, Iwaizumi walks over and places a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder, making him look up. “They were my responsibility, too,” he says tightly, equally as quiet. “I tried to protect them and they still died. It was both of our faults.”

“But—”

“Akaashi,” Iwaizumi interrupts. “You need to listen to me when I say this. Whatever this is that’s troubling you, you need to talk about it, whether it’s me or even Bokuto. I can’t have you walking around bottling everything up constantly. I’ve been there and it’s not healthy. I don’t know what I would have done if Oikawa hadn’t been there. So you need to find someone like that.”

Taking a deep breath, Akaashi steps away, allowing that impassive mask to come back on. He’s lost. He couldn’t convince him. This was all pointless. “It’s fine, Iwaizumi. Just tell me where to go and I’ll take him north myself, but when we die, I hope you remember what I said.” He walks over to the door and leaves Iwaizumi standing in the middle of the room. “Let’s get back to the others.”

Iwaizumi catches up to him outside. It’s silent and tense. Akaashi can feel it in his shoulders and he hates it. It’s his fault. He shouldn’t have even brought it up. But he had to risk asking. He had to try.

“By the way,” he says and Akaashi’s relieved to hear he’s moving away from their other conversation. Another change in topic. “We had two visitors show up a couple days back. I should have told you as soon as you got here, but we got mixed up with the plant.” And other things, but Akaashi doesn’t say it.

He looks over hopefully. It had been on his mind when they had stepped through the gate, but he figured he’d be pressing his luck if he asked. So as usual he put it off and waited. Iwaizumi nods to confirm his thoughts.

“Kuroo. I’d recognize his hair anywhere after all,” Iwaizumi says, shaking his head.

“He’s safe?”

Iwaizumi looks at Akaashi, hearing that hope and anxiety in his voice. “He safe,” he says. “It seems like you guys went through a lot, but he wouldn’t say a word to me. He said we’d have to wait. Now I understand. I wouldn’t have believed any of it unless it came straight from your mouth.”

“And where’s he at?” Akaashi asks.

“He and his friend are in town, don’t worry,” Iwaizumi says. “It’s more secure there than it is here.”

It’s too good to be true. Akaashi can’t believe their luck. Before the day is out, he’ll get to see Kuroo again. He can feel his shoulders relaxing. It feels like he’s releasing a breath that he’s been holding for far too long now. It’ll be good to see him. Bokuto will be excited, too. Akaashi remembers how they became fast friends. His conversation with Iwaizumi fades to the back of his mind. The best he can do is hope that maybe Iwaizumi will think about it and change his mind. And if he doesn’t—well, Akaashi will just have to decide what to do when that time comes. For now, he makes himself fully embrace the relief in the news of Kuroo.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto yells as soon as he spots him. “Did you see? They got the electricity back on!”

“Yes, Bokuto. I was there,” Akaashi says patiently, though with a smile.

“And Oikawa and I already ate. He said he didn’t know how long you guys would be so I hope that’s okay, but the food’s really good! Way better than what we’ve been eating the past few days and I think you’ll really like it.” At Akaashi’s stomach growling, he says, “Plus there’s tons of it, too! Let’s go eat, Akaashi.”

Bokuto gives a firm pull on Akaashi’s arm and leads him away. He smiles at the idea of telling Bokuto the good news. It drops slightly, feeling the weight of Iwaizumi’s eyes on his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so much fun to work with the other characters this chapter. It's also great to have Iwaizumi back. Next chapter will basically be part two of this one, that's why this one ran a bit shorter this time.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your reviews kudos. I love each and every one of them so much.
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](https://youtube.com/watch?v=1Ga4F0_xGQI)  
> This has totally become my song for Akaashi and I can't stop listening to it!


	8. Truce

Bokuto loves riding the horses. Akaashi’s sure he’s an annoying rider, but it’s fun to watch his eyes shine at this new experience. He casts glances over his shoulder, checking if Akaashi is watching how great he’s doing his first time on a horse.

The town isn’t far from the plant, Iwaizumi had explained, but it’s quicker this way. Plus it gives the horses some exercise. It’s later in the day now, almost evening. When Yahaba and Kyoutani’s group came back, Oikawa said they were good to go for the night. Hanamaki and Matsukawa left with them as well. The rest would watch over the plant for the night and Oikawa would check in on the town himself. Iwaizumi also said it’d be good for him to sleep in his own bed.

Akaashi’s anxious. He’s not sure when it happened, but the relief that he had been feeling earlier had turned into anxiety. It’s like a seesaw, going back and forth. He’s sure it’ll make him sick eventually. Was he anxious to meet up with Kuroo again? Why would he be? Sure it’s been a few months, but—

“Everything will be find,” Bokuto calls back to him.

Akaashi looks up from staring at the saddle horn. Bokuto grins at him.

“We get to see Kuroo again, Akaashi! Lighten up some.”

Maybe it’s not Kuroo that has him anxious. For a moment, his mind slides back to the conversation he’d had with Iwaizumi. Is that what’s causing this feeling bubbling in his stomach. Is it fear? Anger? He’s still not sure, but he smiles for Bokuto and tries to push it off.

The sun shines strongly in the sky. Its heat doesn’t bother them as much now that they aren’t walking about on foot. It even feels nice on the back of his neck. It still has a ways to go before it sets, but that’s only because the days are longer now. Soon it will be dinnertime and Iwaizumi had promised them the best they could offer. It wouldn’t be much, Akaashi figures, but he looks forward to it nonetheless. His stomach growls involuntarily at the thought of food without having to think of rationing.

They approach more walls when the town comes into view. It’s guarded similarly to the plant. Oikawa waves up to those on watch and it’s not long before the gate opens. A couple of people come to say hello as they enter and dismount, a few offer to take their horses to clean up and put with the others. Oikawa tries to argue, saying he’ll do it himself, but Iwaizumi takes the reigns from him and hands them off.

“You need to stop trying to do everything,” he grumbles, shoving him away. He gestures Akaashi and Bokuto to follow with a jerk of his head. “The world won’t stop turning if you take the night off. We have guests. Try to enjoy yourself.”

Hanamaki and Matsukawa snicker at Oikawa’s antics and wave as they head off in the opposite direction. Oikawa waves halfheartedly back as Iwaizumi continues to push him away.

“Iwa-chan,” he complains, but it falls on deaf ears.

Iwaizumi ignores him and turns his attention to Akaashi. “There’s a place next to ours that Kuroo is staying in. There’s room enough for you and Bokuto as well if you squeeze.”

Akaashi nods. “That will be fine. Thank you Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi returns the nod and looks away. Akaashi hates seeing the effects of their argument in this way, but he refuses to say anything directly, especially in front of Bokuto, and instead settles on frowning to himself.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s house isn’t far into the town they have sectioned off. When they come to a halt, Iwaizumi nods to the house next to the one they stand in front of.

“They’re in there,” he says and then pulls Oikawa away. “We’ll leave you guys to catch up.”

It sounds weird coming from Iwaizumi. It’s supposed to be the other way around. Akaashi is supposed to be catching up with him after these long years, not with someone like Kuroo who should’ve made this journey with them from beginning to end. They had their time to catch up and Akaashi spent it asking for hard favors that he couldn’t have expected Iwaizumi to take up. He sighs watching them walk away. Bokuto is antsy at his side, like they wouldn’t know Kuroo is actually alive and safe until he sees him. Shaking the unnecessary thoughts from his head, Akaashi pulls on Bokuto’s hand toward the other house.

“Let’s go, Bokuto,” he says looking over at him. “Are you excited to see Kuroo?”

Bokuto squeezes his hand, transferring his excited energy, and doesn’t let go. He nods eagerly, saying, “I’m glad he made it here safely.”

“Me too.”

“Do you know who he brought with him?” Bokuto asks as they near the front door.

Shrugging, Akaashi knocks on the door. “I’m not sure.”

The door opens and Akaashi blinks, taking a moment to identify the person standing before them and that it’s not Kuroo like he had expected. He’s shorter with black hair that falls to his shoulders with the tips blonde like it had been dyed a long time ago and had grown out. It hangs in his face as his head bends forward over a gaming device in his hands. He doesn’t look up at them, fingers busily tapping at the buttons.

“Uh—” Bokuto starts, but he’s interrupted.

“Kuro,” he calls in a quiet voice, eyes never moving from the screen that lights up his face. Akaashi can hear footsteps approaching the door and he can only assume that it’s Kuroo. “Akaashi’s here.”

He’s taken aback that this person knows his name, yet he’s never seen him before. This must be who Kuroo brought with him. For some reason, Akaashi had been hoping that it would be a familiar face, though he couldn’t imagine anyone like that. Maybe Yamamoto, but Akaashi can’t really see him leaving Shizuoka.

Kuroo appears in the doorway and moves his friend gently, but quickly, out of the way, hands on his shoulders. His eyes light up at the sight of Akaashi and Bokuto and his weight crashes into him. He nearly knocking him over, but Kuroo anchors him and Bokuto’s strong hand on his back keeps him on his feet.

“You took your sweet time getting here, Akaashi,” Kuroo grumbles into his ear. “I was starting to worry.”

Akaashi hugs him back in a tight grip. “I was the one who was worried. After what happened…”

Kuroo moves from Akaashi to Bokuto, ruffling his hair, grinning. “Who, me? Don’t you know? A cat always lands on its feet,” he says with a wink and Akaashi hears a slight groan from behind.

“Kuro.”

“Oh, right. Introductions.” Although Akaashi’s sure the remark was directed at Kuroo’s poor attempt at a joke. “Akaashi, Bokuto, this is Kenma.”

Akaashi sees Kenma hit pause on his game in order to look up and affix each name with a face. He nods to them before he goes back to his game.

Kuroo’s grin widens. “Don’t mind him. We just got electricity back, did you hear?” They start back into the house, Kuroo motioning Akaashi and Bokuto to follow. “Frankly, I don’t know how you’ve survived all this time without it,” he says to Kenma.

Sparing him a quick glance, Kenma sits down on the floor against a wall where there’s a charger that he plugs into. He doesn’t talk much, but already Akaashi can see the way they communicate with little glances and jerks of their head. Akaashi wonders how they know each other, but he doesn’t have long to ponder.

Now that they’re inside, Kuroo turns his attention to Akaashi. “So you guys had a head start on us. How’d you fall behind?” He looks between Akaashi and Bokuto.

Bokuto jumps right in to tell the story and Akaashi gladly lets him. He’s sure Kuroo will enjoy his answer far more than Akaashi’s, seeing that all he can think to say is, we ran into some problems, but it was fine. We’re here now.

“Well we met this angry guy after we split.”

“Ukai.”

“Yeah, yeah, him! And we got a car—”

“Ukai actually gave you guys a car?”

Bokuto throws an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, pointing to him. “Akaashi’s a real sweet talker.”

Throwing his head back, Kuroo barks out a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure he is.”

“So we got a car working, but we only made it a few towns over before this gang ambushed us! It would’ve been worse if Akaashi hadn’t known about it.” Bokuto’s eyes are wide as he uses his hands to gesture their car swerving and crashing into the store. “Then they caught us, but Akaashi escaped and saved me! But then they were after us again with this huge truck and we had to outrun them on this bridge.”

Akaashi watches the amused twitch on Kuroo’s lips. “How’d you guys get away?” Playing right into Bokuto’s hands, but then of course he would. Akaashi feels his heart swelling just watching them go back and forth. He sees Kenma glancing up from his game every so often to listen in as well. He’d probably already heard an earful about Bokuto from Kuroo. Akaashi wonders if he knows that Bokuto’s immune.

“We totally would’ve beat them, but the bridge had collapsed. So I told Akaashi we had to jump.”

“And Akaashi didn’t want to jump, did he?” Kuroo smirks in Akaashi’s direction. He rolls his eyes back at him.

Bokuto laughs, knocking shoulders with Akaashi. “He said it was too high.”

“Of course he did.”

“Hey, are you two ganging up on me?” Akaashi intercepts with a small smile that he tries to keep straight.

Kuroo waves him off. “No, no, Akaashi, we would never do that,” he says, sneaking a grin at Bokuto. “So you guys jumped, right?”

“Yeah!”

“We had to stay a few nights at a house because Bokuto got a fever,” Akaashi explains.

“Bet you hated that.”

Shrugging, Akaashi says, “You know me too well, Kuroo.”

Kuroo laughs again. “Then I guess you won’t be staying here long if you can help it.”

Akaashi slides a glance over to Bokuto. They might stay a few days, see if he can get Iwaizumi to change his mind, but, no, they won’t be staying long in Tozawa.

Bokuto groans at that. “But I like it here, Akaashi.”

“We have a job to do, Bokuto,” Akaashi says to him. “We can come back after we see the Crows.”

He grins at that. “Really? Is that a promise?”

Akaashi nods. He likes Tozawa, too. It’s well fortified and with its protection he can breathe easy and relax knowing that his friends are here and safe. He definitely wants to return. Isn’t that just like it? They reach Tozawa and already he’s setting it as one of those long-term goals again. Akaashi guesses he just can’t help it. He just can’t escape Tozawa. Maybe he should have come here with Iwaizumi in the first place.

He glances over at Bokuto. No, he’s fine where he is. After all, he’s here now. That’s all that matters really.

“Speaking of promises,” Kuroo drawls, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a box of raisins. “Remember what you promised Bokuto?”

His brows raised, Akaashi takes the raisins from Kuroo. “If I remember correctly, you were the one to make that promise.” He can practically feel the excitement radiating off of Bokuto beside him.

“You’ll toss some for me, Akaashi?” he asks. “I couldn’t catch any last time.”

“That’s because Kuroo’s bad at it.”

Bokuto takes a few steps away from Akaashi, bouncing on his toes. Akaashi squares off to face him, opening the box and taking a few out.

“Only a few, Bokuto,” he says in a halfhearted warning, but Bokuto nods anyway.

He tosses the first one, arching it perfectly. Bokuto doesn’t even have to move. He waits until the last second before his mouth snaps open and he catches it. His cheers echo off the walls.

“That was great, Akaashi!”

Akaashi blushes under the praise and goes to throw the next.

“Oi, Kenma,” Kuroo says from behind. “Would you toss some?”

“That’s what you wanted to do all day yesterday. Akaashi’s already throwing them. Get him to do it.”

Kuroo sighs, but on Akaashi’s next toss, he quickly jumps in front of Bokuto to snag the raisin out of the air. They continue on like that for a while and it actually feels like something normal. If throwing raisins around can be considered normal. Kuroo and Bokuto’s playful bickering fills the air.

“Kenma, did you see that catch?”

“Hey, hey, hey! I caught that one, Akaashi! Aren’t I amazing?”

In between tosses, Akaashi snacks on some of the raisins while their attention is occupied. He’s hungry, but he knows they should be eating dinner soon.

“Hey! Akaashi! You’re eating all the ammo!” Bokuto complains at some point, catching Akaashi in the act, and pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

“Once we’re out, we’re out,” Kuroo says, shrugging. “I’ve been bugging Iwaizumi about it a lot, so I doubt he’ll give us much more. I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“He never really did,” Akaashi says with a smile and pops another raisin into his mouth. Before either of them can complain, he throws one into the air. A perfect distraction.

Eventually Akaashi runs out of raisins. Kuroo and Bokuto are just starting to complain when a knock sounds from the door. Akaashi sighs in relief and offers to get it. He finds Iwaizumi and Oikawa standing on the other side holding food already hot and set to eat. Akaashi’s mouth waters at the idea of having a cooked meal again.

“We’re back,” Oikawa calls, inviting himself in.

While Kuroo and Bokuto mess around in the living room with Kenma watching on, Akaashi helps Iwaizumi and Oikawa set the table. Oikawa turns on the light overhead and everyone spares it an excited glance when it flickers on. There’s definitely something rousing about having electricity.

Because the table only has two chairs around it, Akaashi and Iwaizumi look around the house for more. Soon the table’s full of an odd looking chairs, including the armchair that was spun around and pulled over. Kenma sits there on his knees in order to reach the table.

“So what game were you playing?” Bokuto asks, scooting his chair closer to Kenma’s.

Kenma had just tucked the device away into his hoody’s pocket and his fingers itch back bring it back out, but he starts to eat instead. “Just some game,” he replies shrugging.

“Where’d you get it?” Bokuto asks with his mouth already full.

“Oikawa’s nephew let me borrow it,” Kenma answers. “Do you want to try?”

“Hell yeah I would! Will you show me how?”

Kuroo purposefully clears his throat, giving Kenma a pointed look. Kenma jabs him in his side, not looking away from Bokuto. “Sure, after we eat though, or else Kuroo will have a fit.”

“No games at the table,” Oikawa sings from across the table, a finger raised in the air to make his point. “I always have to tell Takeru, too.”

“Maybe he has a game you can both play,” Iwaizumi adds.

Bokuto sits up straighter. “A multiplayer game!” he squawks. “Good idea!”

“Takeru won’t be happy if you take all of his stuff,” Oikawa says laughing. “He’s pretty excited about playing them, too, you know.”

“Well, why can’t he come play with us?” Bokuto asks, head cocked.

Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa smirking. “You know he’d like that.”

Oikawa crosses his arms over his chest. “Fine, I’ll ask him, but he has a bedtime.”

“Yeah? So do you, but you never keep to it.”

“Don’t bring me into this, Iwa-chan!”

They laugh and everyone shifts into their own conversations. Bokuto asks Kenma about what his favorite games were from before while Kuroo throws in his two cents.

“But what about that other one you were always playing, Kenma?” he asks. “I thought that one was your favorite.”

Kenma scowls. “The graphics were nice, but it was too easy.”

“Wait, so you two knew each other from before? Like Iwaizumi and Akaashi?” Bokuto asks, eyes wide.

Kuroo nods with a half shrug.

“Yeah, we went to high school together,” Kenma says, making Kuroo laugh.

“Back in the day.”

Kenma nods thoughtfully. “Yeah, that was a while ago.”

Akaashi wonders who Kenma is. If he’s known Kuroo for such a long time, then why hasn’t he met him before now? It doesn’t make any sense. He makes a mental note to ask Kuroo about it later. He turns to ask Iwaizumi and Oikawa more about Tozawa.

It’s not long before everyone is full and they all help in cleaning up, clearing the table, washing the dishes, Akaashi’s pleased to see that they have their water working, and putting everything away or taking things back to Iwaizumi and Oikawa’s house. They return shortly later with a younger boy who looks to be around twelve, his arms full of controllers, cords, and a console. At Akaashi’s look, Oikawa rolls his eyes.

“I offered to help, but no, he can do it himself of course.”

“I can!” Takeru pipes up. He kneels in front of the television and plugs everything in.

The rest of the night is spent watching the controllers being passed from one to the other. Everyone gets a turn, but Kenma, Bokuto, and Takeru end up playing the most. It’s late when Oikawa finally says they should go. Apparently, it’s an hour past Takeru’s bedtime. He complains, but leaves the console behind for Kenma and Bokuto. He promises they can play again tomorrow.

“Only if I bring you with me,” Oikawa says teasingly.

Takeru pouts, but stubbornly objects. “You’re lame, Uncle Tooru. I’ll tell Mom if you don’t. She’ll let me.”

It’s up to Iwaizumi to move them out of the house. “Good night,” he calls over his shoulder. Oikawa and Takeru’s farewells echo behind his just before the door closes.

Though tired, no one really feels like leaving the living room and going to sleep just yet. They sit around in the middle of the floor. Kenma leans his back against Kuroo’s shoulder, the mobile device back out. Kuroo and Bokuto talk quietly amongst themselves. Akaashi lets them. He feels his eyes drooping, far too heavy to stay open, but he can’t bring himself to leave the others’ company.

At some point, he leans on Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto tells Kuroo about the rest of their trip and Akaashi let’s his voice lull him off to sleep. He can’t remember the last time he felt so safe in a place. It makes falling asleep easy.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but he wakes when a hand gently shakes his arm. Somehow he’s moved onto his side. His cheeks heat up when he realizes he’s using Bokuto’s thigh as a pillow. Hopefully no one sees how red his face probably is. He rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“Kuroo and Kenma already went to bed,” Bokuto says softly, running his fingers through Akaashi’s hair. “Sorry for waking you. I figured you wouldn’t want to sleep like this.”

Akaashi sits up quickly, nearly bumping heads with Bokuto who grins at him.

“They got the only bedroom, but they gave us sleeping bags.” He proudly holds up the two rolls that had been sitting next to him.

Akaashi deadpans. “How nice of them.”

It’s not the worst sleeping arrangement though. The past few weeks they’ve spent most nights outside after all. Though they have the entire living room to spread out, Bokuto lays his out right next to Akaashi’s. They use the couch cushions for pillows, though Akaashi can’t help but think that Bokuto’s lap had been more comfortable. Once they’re settled, he feels Bokuto press up against his side and he feels content.

**———**

“No, Hajime,” Oikawa’s voice sounds in the morning, waking Akaashi from his sleep. “No, absolutely not. You thought I would agree to this?”

“Tooru,” Iwaizumi starts.

“Tell him to go find someone else. Anyone else.”

Akaashi turns over, facing away from Bokuto, though his arms still weigh heavy with sleep around him. He looks to the door. They don’t sound far off. It’s clear they’ve come to see them, but Oikawa is definitely upset over something. Akaashi thinks he can guess what it might be.

“It’s not your job to look after him anymore.”

Maybe he thinks the walls are thicker than they actually are.

“But this is bigger than me. Bigger than us, Tooru. I can’t have this hanging over me now that I know.”

“What’s going on?” Bokuto asks sleepily into Akaashi’s ear.

He flinches in surprise, but turns back over. “Don’t worry about it, Bokuto.”

“He’s immune.”

“I don’t care. I need you here, Hajime,” Oikawa continues.

Akaashi sighs, staring off in the direction of the door while he knows Bokuto looks at him questioningly.

“Does it have anything to do with me?” he asks.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop,” Akaashi mumbles, his gaze sliding back over to Bokuto who sticks his bottom lip out in a pout, but surprisingly he changes the topic.

“Did Iwaizumi tell you where the lab is yesterday?”

That’s not exactly the turn in conversation Akaashi was hoping for. “We’ll talk about it later.” His eyes move away from Bokuto’s again, back to the door.

“But—”

Akaashi moves to stand, anticipating the knock that sounds now that the talking outside has faded. “We’ll talk about it later,” he repeats more firmly this time, looking back at Bokuto as he goes to answer let Iwaizumi and Oikawa in.

Bokuto huffs at him and turns over on his side.

Settling his hand on the doorknob, Akaashi refuses to let his hopes get too high. What Iwaizumi was saying sounds promising, but the last thing he needs is another disappointing answer. He does hope that Oikawa hasn’t talked him out of it for good now. He feels bad for snapping at Bokuto, but it’s not the right time to tell him just yet. He wouldn’t understand anyway, Akaashi thinks to himself. Finally, he gives the knob a twist to find Iwaizumi and Oikawa on the other side. Right away he can tell the latter is in a foul mood.

“Hope we didn’t wake you,” Iwaizumi says as they enter.

Akaashi shakes his head. “We were already up.” He looks between the two. “What do you need?”

Oikawa goes to say something, but Iwaizumi silences him with a look. “I have to do this,” he mutters under his breath. Akaashi only just catches it. He fixes his stern gaze back on Akaashi.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says, before Iwaizumi can start, “I need to speak with Iwaizumi and Oikawa alone, please.”

He hears Bokuto grumbling under his breath as he gets up and stalks out of the room. He knows his request has probably made things worse. He certainly doesn’t want to put Bokuto into a bad mood, but he doesn’t want Bokuto to overhear this conversation even more.

“Akaashi, I’ve done some thinking and I’ve changed my mind,” Iwaizumi says. “I’ll take Bokuto to the Crows for you.”

He feels his heart sink with relief, but something else makes it thump loudly in his throat like he might cough it up right into his hands. Is it regret? He bows quickly, swallowing it down. “Thank you, Iwaizumi.” Oikawa appears in his face when he straightens. He has a scary look in his eyes, making Akaashi gulp down his pounding heart again.

“If anything happens to him, Akaashi—while he’s out doing this—it’s on you.”

Without a second look at either of them, he leaves the house, slamming the door behind him. Akaashi hears his own words, the ones spoken irrationally to Iwaizumi yesterday, echo in Oikawa’s. He tries to swallow down that uneasy feeling of regret once more. He can feel Iwaizumi staring at him.

“You won’t have to worry,” he says. “I’ll get Bokuto to the Crows safely, Akaashi.”

Nodding, Akaashi only gets out, “It’s better this way.”

“A lot of good things can come from this. I didn’t tell you before, I was upset, but it’ll give hope to a lot of people. Can you imagine a vaccine? Or even a cure?”

He’s starting to sound like he did when he was with the Crows before, Akaashi thinks. Back just before that winter when he could be hopeful about things like that. Bokuto represents that cure and that’s too precious to leave unprotected. And Akaashi doesn’t trust himself to do it. Iwaizumi—the one who sees the hope in a cure and the hope of a better world even after the outbreak—he’s the best one to do it. There’s a special kind of drive when you have that. Akaashi was just doing what he was told.

“I need to talk to Bokuto,” he says, biting his lip, glancing in the direction Bokuto had left.

Before Iwaizumi can respond, the front door swings open again and Oikawa bursts back into the room. Akaashi readies himself for another lecture, but Oikawa doesn’t look angry anymore. Instead his face is pulled tight with concern, some frustration, too.

“Bokuto just ran off,” he says and Akaashi sees his radio gripped firmly in one hand. “One of our guards just reported it.”

At least he knows how important Bokuto is. He’s only angry about Iwaizumi leaving.

Wait.

“He left?” Akaashi demands. “What do you mean he left?”

Oikawa runs a hand over his face. “The gate was open, letting a group back in. He must have ran out. Makki said he got ahold of a horse somehow.”

Akaashi glares back and forth between them as he passes through to go outside. “We need to go after him. He’ll get himself lost out there. Or worse.”

“I’ll go with you. We can take the horses. He couldn’t have gone too far just yet,” Iwaizumi says, catching up to him. Oikawa is fast on his heels, speaking rapidly in a hushed voice into his radio, relaying what Iwaizumi had just said about the horses.

“I’ll stay here in case he comes back. Take a radio with you, Iwa-chan. That way I can let you know if he does,” he says as he hands his own radio off to Iwaizumi who accepts. “I’ll get another from Mattsun.”

They make their way quickly to the gates. Hanamaki is there with two horses already saddled and ready to go.

“It rained last night so you shouldn’t have any trouble tracking him down,” he says.

“How did he manage to slip out in the first place?” Akaashi asks as he and Iwaizumi mount up. He instantly regrets the anger that escapes into his voice.

Hanamaki shrugs, thin brows narrowing ever so slightly. “We’re not exactly on lookout to keep people from running away. This isn’t a prison. We watch to make sure no one gets in, not out.”

Before Akaashi can say anything else, Iwaizumi directs his horse out the gate, leaving him no choice but to follow. “We’ll find him, Akaashi. No need to get so worked up,” he says over his shoulder.

Akaashi can see muddy hoof prints marking up the dirt road Iwaizumi follows. The few puddles he spots tell him that Hanamaki was right. He’s grateful for the wet weather.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you get like this,” Iwaizumi remarks when Akaashi stays silent behind him.

“He’s too important to just let him slip away,” he says, frowning, but Iwaizumi doesn’t see.

“Sure,” is all he replies. “I get it.”

Bokuto’s tracks don’t lead them very far. Iwaizumi is the first to spot the lone house that sits on the roadside. He points it out to Akaashi.

“There’s our horse,” he says. “He has to be in there.”

Akaashi nods and they quicken their horses with a destination in sight. He should feel relieved, but his stomach keeps flip-flopping, heart pounding. There’s no need to worry, he tells himself. Bokuto will be right inside. He’ll be safe. Then Iwaizumi will take him to the Crows and he’ll still be safe, just like Akaashi had promised.

They dismount in front of the house and tie their horses to the wooden fence that surrounds it just like Bokuto had done with his stolen horse. Without wasting any time, Akaashi leads the way to the door.

“Careful, we still have infected in the area,” Iwaizumi warns.

Akaashi sighs. He knew this place was too good to be true. There’s no getting rid of the infected. Maybe there never will be. Even a place like Tozawa still has to deal with them. He takes out his gun and opens the door. It’s silent inside.

“Bokuto?” he calls out. It’s not a big house, but with a second floor, Bokuto could be anywhere.

Iwaizumi goes to shush him, but thinks better of it. He stays silent at Akaashi’s side as they enter.

“Bokuto!” Akaashi calls again, louder this time.

There’s a moment of quiet where Akaashi fears he’s gone. Bokuto’s long gone by now and he’s never going to find him. Then he hears his voice.

“Yeah, up here!”

He doesn’t sound like he’s sulking. Akaashi grumbles angrily under his breath before turning to Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi nods to the stairs. “Go on. You two should talk. I’ll keep watch down here.” Into his radio, he tells Oikawa that they’ve found him.

Akaashi nods back his thanks before starting up the stairs. There’s only two rooms upstairs. One has a crib in it while the other is a bedroom, which he enters, ignoring the crib and the sad stories that must fill it. He’s not here for that. He’s here for Bokuto.

He sits cross-legged on the bed with what looks like photo albums splayed out around him. He doesn’t look up from them as Akaashi stands before him.

“Things seemed a lot easier back then,” he murmurs at last, flipping a page over. “Vacations, parties, holidays.” He trails off, lost in thought again.

Akaashi huffs his impatience though it doesn’t seem to faze Bokuto. “Come on, Bokuto. We’re leaving.” He starts to leave the room, but Bokuto doesn’t move an inch. He hasn’t even looked up yet.

“Why?” he asks, voice still quiet. “So I can go with Iwaizumi? I overheard you guys.”

Akaashi should have known Bokuto would be one to listen behind doors. He can’t bring himself to say anything.

“But I don’t want to leave. I like it here.”

“I told you, you’d come back one day.”

Glancing up, Bokuto frowns. “You won’t still be here, will you.” It’s not phrased as a question.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you,” Akaashi says. “You’re immune. Don’t you get that? Don’t you know what your life means, Bokuto?” He grits his teeth. “Obviously you don’t. Running off like you did was stupid.”

“Yeah?” Bokuto scoots to the edge of the bed and finally lifts his eyes to meet Akaashi’s. They’re angry. “I guess everyone’s disappointed then. Oikawa, Iwaizumi, you, me.” He ticks it off on his fingers.

“What do you want, Bokuto?” Akaashi seethes. “What more do you want from me? Because I’m doing as much as I can for you, but here you are sulking.”

Bokuto gets to his feet and jabs a finger at Akaashi’s chest. “I want you to admit that you wanted me gone from the beginning. That you were just waiting to hand me off to someone else just like Daichi did.”

“Iwaizumi knows where he’s going,” Akaashi explains, trying to get a better handle on his voice now. “He’ll be able to—”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I trust him more than I trust myself.”

“Stop,” Bokuto says forcefully enough to keep Akaashi from continuing. “We made it here fine without Iwaizumi and we had no idea where we were going. So what are you afraid of, Akaashi?”

Akaashi opens his mouth, trying to think of a compelling argument to prove to Bokuto that Iwaizumi is the best shot they have at getting Bokuto to the Crows in one piece. There has to be a way to reason with him.

“You think I’m going to get infected like everyone else? I can’t! Incase you forgot.”

His eyes slide down to the bite mark on Bokuto’s wrist. This isn’t about that. “We’ve had too many close calls. Our luck—” he tries, but Bokuto cuts him off again.

“All of you guys think your luck’s just going to run out,” Bokuto says slowly, glaring at the ground. “This isn’t about luck! We’ve made it this far so why can’t we keep going?”

“No, Bokuto,” Akaashi says loudly in order to silence him. “We’ve done fine this far, but now you’ll be doing even better with Iwaizumi. End of discussion.”

Bokuto stares at him. For a moment, Akaashi thinks he’s going to keep yelling, but then his shoulders slowly start to droop and his eyes fall to the floor. “This always happens,” he whispers. “Everyone always leaves. It happened before and now it’s happening again— _fuck_ —” He shoves Akaashi away and moves past him to the door. “It was supposed to be different with you!” He has his hands over his face and all Akaashi can do is watch. Then Bokuto turns on him, eyes glassy but angry again. Or more sad than angry, Akaashi can’t tell. “Don’t tell me I’ll be safer with someone else because I won’t. I trust you, Akaashi, but I don’t want to leave you. I’ll just be more scared.”

It’s silent, but Akaashi can feel his mind waging back and forth, back and forth. He can’t though. He just can’t. Iwaizumi’s the right choice. He knows this. “I’ve made my decision,” he says, his voice hollow, as he refuse to meet Bokuto’s stare. “Now, come on. Iwaizumi’s waiting downstairs.”

The ride back is silent. It seems to take three times as long to reach the gate. Bokuto rides in the middle, shoulders still hunched. Akaashi’s almost afraid he’s going to take off again.

Bokuto storms through town, forcing Akaashi to abandon their horses with Iwaizumi, who nods at him to go after him. Houses whirl by as he tries to keep up until suddenly their back at their own.

Having seen them coming, Kuroo opens the door for them. Bokuto pushes past. Before Akaashi can even step inside, he hears the bedroom door slamming shut. Stunned, Kuroo softly closes the front door behind him.

“What happened?”

Akaashi glances at him. His hair is worse than normal. They must have just woken up. He continues into the house until he reaches the bedroom door. “We had an argument,” he mumbles through numb lips.

Kuroo rolls his eyes and leans against the wall not too far away but enough to give Akaashi space. “Clearly,” he drawls, unimpressed. He waits, but Akaashi doesn’t say anything, his mind is too busy thinking up ideas on how to get into the bedroom. Walking in obviously isn’t the right answer. “Well? What was it about?” Kuroo presses.

“I asked Iwaizumi to take him to the Crows.”

“That was dumb.”

That makes Akaashi look over, eyes squinting in confusion. “Kiyoko wanted us to go to him for help. That’s what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, for help. Like tell us where to go,” Kuroo says. “Not to do the job for us.”

“Bokuto will be better off with Iwaizumi.”

Kuroo snorts. “Why?” He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to tame it, but his eyes widen as realization dawns on him. “Oh, because you think you can’t protect him, right?”

Akaashi cringes at the mocking tone in his voice.

“Well, newsflash, Akaashi. You’re not the only one of the team. What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Um, I’m awesome and, more importantly, I’m on this team, too. Why do you think I told you to meet me here? Don’t tell me you thought I wasn’t going to see this through.”

Honestly, Akaashi had forgotten about that. He had just been worried about Kuroo’s safety.

Kuroo sighs. “Of course you did, stupid. Now, I don’t like dragging Kenma into this, but I don’t have much of a choice. We’re with you. You’re not doing this on your own.”

Months of being on his own with Bokuto had got him thinking, this is it. This is how the entire trip would go if he didn’t get help. Maybe he was scared and thought back to the last person he had counted on when he felt like this. Had he really forgotten about Kuroo?

Planting a heavy hand on his head, Kuroo ruffles his hair. “Really, Akaashi. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” He shoves him a bit toward the door. “Get your ass in gear and go apologize for being an idiot. I’m sure he’ll understand.” Then he leaves for the kitchen where Akaashi can hear Kenma eating.

It takes a long moment for Akaashi to gather the courage to knock on the door. “Bokuto, I’m coming in,” he says when he doesn’t get a response. It takes another moment for his hand to find the doorknob.

Bokuto lies on the bed, face buried in a pillow. “Go away,” he says, but it’s muffled.

Akaashi sits on the very edge of the bed. He clears his throat, staring down at his fingers, pulling and twisting them anxiously. He coughs again in hopes that it will help him start speaking.

“I wanted to apologize,” he says at last, words sticking to his tongue awkwardly.

For a second, Bokuto doesn’t move. It takes a while, but he sits up. “So what? Is this just you saying you’re sorry, but sending me off with Iwaizumi? Well, apology not accepted.”

“I’m not sending you with Iwaizumi,” Akaashi whispers, still watching his fingers.

Bokuto stays quiet.

Akaashi chances a glance up to find Bokuto watching him carefully, almost owlish. “I’ll take you to the Crows.” Silence still meets his words and he pulls at his fingers even more nervously. He looks back down. “Please forgive me for frightening you. I was the stupid one. I’m the one who’s scared, but I promised I’d protect you no matter what, and I will.”

Bokuto’s hand comes into view and covers his fingers, squeezing tightly so they can’t move. Akaashi takes in a shaky breath and looks up at him again.

“Then we’re really not separating?” Bokuto asks hopefully.

Akaashi scowls at himself. If he could only just rewind to yesterday he could make this better. “We’re going together, Bokuto.”

Whooping a loud cheer, Bokuto barrels into him, knocking them both from the bed and onto the floor. He laughs loud into Akaashi’s face, hugging him tightly, face burrowing into his neck where his smile makes its imprint. Akaashi can feel his heart melting away all of the fear and unease. He’s thankful Bokuto forgives so easily.

Bokuto pulls back and grins. “I’m glad,” he says. “I trust you, Akaashi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn't think this chapter would be up on time, but I'm certainly glad it is! I hope you all like it!
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eCeBNwBUkcI)


	9. In My Veins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long! I'm so sorry what was supposed to be a brief hiatus turned into a much longer one. Finals tore me apart and I was writing for one of my portfolios nonstop the week leading up to it. Then I came home and had forgotten how hard it is to write here! But now I promise I'll be back on a better updating schedule! It feels so great to update again!
> 
> Please check out this amazing fanart! [amoxli's](http://amoxli.tumblr.com/post/143064676161/more-fanart-for-silentmarcos-amazing) and [abbybabbles's](http://artbyabbybabbles.tumblr.com/post/143102135021/stay-alive-stay-alive-for-me-you-will-die-but)  
> They are so lovely!
> 
> Please enjoy the new chapter. It's a long time in coming, but it's extra long to make up for the wait.

They set out to leave the following morning. Their supplies had been restocked and Akaashi can’t think of anything else they need to do. Except, he remembers, talk to Iwaizumi. He and Oikawa meet them outside just as the sun begins to rise. Kenma yawns sleepily and Bokuto grouches about being up so early. Akaashi ignores his complaints, directed at him of course, and meets Iwaizumi halfway.

“Iwaizumi,” Akaashi starts before they’ve even come together. “I’m sorry for causing so much trouble.” It seems all he’s been doing lately is apologizing. “Thank you very much for your offer, but I’ve decided to take Bokuto to the Crows myself along with Kuroo and Kenma.” He turns to Oikawa. “Please forgive me for worrying you.”

He watches Oikawa’s shoulders slump ever so slightly with relief, but he doesn’t let any of that show on his face. Instead he laughs, pointing at Akaashi. “Taking some responsibility? Good! That means Iwa-chan can stay here for me to keep an eye on him.”

“You don’t need me to go with you then?” Iwaizumi asks, ignoring Oikawa as always.

Akaashi pretends to miss Oikawa’s hand reaching to take hold of Iwaizumi’s and the way it tightens. “You’re clearly needed here, Iwaizumi. I wouldn’t want to take you away from you duties.” He looks back at his group. “I think we’ll be enough to handle this. Besides, it’s harder to move bigger groups. We already might be pushing it.”

Iwaizumi considers this for a second before he nods. “Then I should show you where you’ll be going.” He follows Akaashi back over to the others. Oikawa hangs back, but keeps a sharp eye on Iwaizumi as if he’ll run off with them while he’s not paying attention.

Iwaizumi folds open a map from his pocket, showing a highlighted route. “I did this last night. It’s not exactly close, but this is the best way to go in my opinion. You’ll want to follow the main road heading west along the river. Eventually, you’ll connect to Ushuhama Highway, which will take you north. The rest is all down here and you’re smart enough not to get yourself lost,” he says, handing the map off to Akaashi, who casts a glance Bokuto’s way. He has enough shame to blush.

“I’ll be sure to return this to you,” Akaashi says as he gestures to the map.

“Good,” Iwaizumi says with a hard look. “We look forward to your return then.”

“So where is it we’re heading exactly?” Kuroo asks, leaning over Akaashi’s shoulder in order to peer at the map.

Iwaizumi leans in on Akaashi’s other shoulder to point a bit further north than where Tozawa is marked. “Akita International University. The Crows’ base was set up in the library. They had their lab, research, everything in there. That’s the most I know, so hopefully you find them there.”

“Hopefully?” Bokuto asks, raising his brows. He had been swaying on his toes to look over their heads at the map.

“There’s no reason why they wouldn’t be. That’s where they were doing the majority of their work. I had to go up there once when I was still working with them. Like I said, hard trip, but nothing you guys haven’t already done in getting here.”

“Plus it’s getting warmer out,” Kuroo adds with a grin, but Iwaizumi laughs, cutting him off.

“Yeah, until the rainy season starts.” He peers at the map again. “And I’m guessing it’ll hit you right in the middle of your trip, or the end, depending where you are.”

Inwardly, Akaashi groans. The coming summer was only nice for a few things. He preferred travelling in the fall to any other time. It had its ups and downs same as every season, but it was still better than summer. “The heat also means more infected. It would’ve been better if we were moving in the winter. The cold slows them down.”

“Psh.” Kuroo rolls his eyes and waves Akaashi off. “Then we’ll be careful. We always are anyway. Don’t be such a downer, Akaashi.”

“We’ll have to avoid bigger cities then,” Kenma remarks quietly.

“We’ll be fine,” Bokuto insists, hands planted on his hips.

Sighing, Akaashi turns to Iwaizumi while the others come up with some semblance of a game plan. “How will we find this library?” he asks.

“It’s a white, square-shaped building, not big and long like the lecture halls are, but look for a walkway bridge connecting them. Also,” he adds with a smirk, “if you open the doors and there are shelves and shelves of books, you’re probably in the right place.”

“Just wanted to be sure,” Akaashi huffs.

Iwaizumi’s smile falls slightly. “They’re set up on the second floor. Use my name if you have to.”

“Then we get Bokuto to the Crows, let them check him out, and be back here soon as we can,” Kuroo says, reaching over to ruffle Bokuto’s hair, messing the gel he had so carefully done up just before leaving the house.

As Bokuto mourns his hair and pushes Kuroo, Akaashi’s mind is elsewhere. He doubts it will all be that easy. It just can’t. All of this—everything that they’ve been through—just to have Bokuto checked out, pricked by a few needles, and done? Akaashi didn’t study medicine for long, but he certainly knows it doesn’t work out like that. Even common sense tells him that. Kuroo’s smart, too. Searching his face, Akaashi figures he must be bluffing somewhere under that grinning mask. Keeping his thoughts hidden as well, Akaashi still worries that it will be long time before they see Tozawa again.

Iwaizumi’s eyes are on Akaashi and it takes him a second to realize and shift his attention away from Kuroo and his thoughts. “So you do actually plan on coming back?” Iwaizumi asks him.

“I did say I’d get your map back to you.”

“Yeah, but I mean you want to stay? After that?”

Akaashi feels his face flush as he drops his gaze. “If you’ll have us. It’s good here,” he mutters. “You have it good here in Tozawa. It would be a good thing to come back to.” He lifts his gaze to the others. “All of us.”

Iwaizumi nods, a smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, you’re welcome here.”

“Well, are you going to leave or not?” Oikawa asks, interrupting them. “You’re burning daylight.”

Iwaizumi chuckles at Oikawa’s eagerness. “The sooner you leave, the sooner you can return,” he adds.

“Oikawa’s right,” Kuroo says, casting a reluctant gaze up and down the street. Now Akaashi can read his thoughts straight from his face. He doesn’t want to leave this place either. “We woke up early for a reason. Let’s get a move on.”

Iwaizumi and Oikawa walk them to the gate, a different one from where they had entered. This one will connect them to the road they need to take in order to follow the river west.

“I said earlier that there aren’t many infected in this area, there wasn’t a large population before the outbreak, but still don’t let your guard down,” Iwaizumi says after signaling one of the men on watch to open the gate. “The further you go, the more infected you’ll find.”

“I know,” Akaashi says to reassure him. “We’ll be careful, Iwaizumi, I promise. And then we’ll be back before you know it.”

Iwaizumi follows them just beyond the gate before he stops.

“Akita International University,” Akaashi says back to him over his shoulder. “Library. Second floor.”

“Right,” Iwaizumi says. “And try to come back in one piece.”

“We’ll do our best,” Kuroo calls with a grin.

Akaashi can’t fight the tightening feeling in his chest as he stares at the road stretching ahead of them. It’s almost as if every fiber of his body is pulling him back to Tozawa, telling him to stay put where it’s safe. But no place is safe, he argues back. This place is just safer than others. Still, no matter what, they have to get Bokuto to the Crows.

Bokuto falls into step beside him while Kuroo and Kenma take the lead. “You know you were right.”

“Probably,” Akaashi says, “but right about what?”

“We couldn’t stay in Tozawa. We have to keep going.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t come back.”

Bokuto doesn’t say anything for a few minutes and neither does Akaashi. Kuroo and Kenma are silent, too. There’s only the sound of the feet on the asphalt and the jostling of a backpack.

“Are you scared at all, Bokuto?” Akaashi asks at last.

“A little bit,” Bokuto admits, “but I’m glad we’re sticking together now. Really glad. And,” he pauses, “we have some place to come back to now.”

**———**

It takes a few days, just under a week, to go all the way west, following Iwaizumi’s directions of course. They’re not far off from reaching the connecting freeway that will take them north, all the way to the university and to the Crows, Akaashi hopes.

Skipping signs of old civilization means sticking strictly to the road. No detours with comfy houses to spend the night. The walking is hard as well, stuck out under the sun. The summer heat is both a blessing and a curse, disguised within the sun’s blinding light. It burns their necks by day, but cools down to the perfect temperature to sleep out at night, hidden in the trees just far enough away from the road. It brings humidity and bugs and, eventually, rain soon enough, but facing these conditions are much preferable than risking cities crawling with infected and other possible survivors.

The sun is setting low and it’s about the usual time they turn in to find a good place to camp out for the night and make it as secure as they can. Kuroo stops in the middle of the road, staring off ahead into the distance. Akaashi comes to a stop next to him.

“What is it?”

Kuroo shades his eyes from the sun. “I thought we’d make it today.”

Shrugging, Akaashi sighs. The highway that will take them north is close. Maybe by tomorrow they’ll reach it. “We’re slowing down. At this rate we’ll never beat the rain.”

“It’s just something we’ll have to deal with.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t like it.”

“We’ve been taking more breaks,” Kuroo says, turning to face Akaashi. “We’re doing fine with our rations, but—”

“But we’ll have to make a stop eventually,” Akaashi finishes for him.

Kuroo huffs out a breath in response and Akaashi chances a glance over his shoulder to find Bokuto chatting to Kenma with more enthusiasm than he’s receiving on Kenma’s end.

“We’re all sunburnt and getting bitten alive at night,” Akaashi continues. “That’s why we’re slowing down. Tomorrow we’ll push for a faster pace, but I’m not too worried, Kuroo. We’ll make it there just fine. And if we have to make a stop, we make a stop.”

Humming thoughtfully to himself, Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah, I’m not worried either. I just really wanted to make this trip in a straight shot.” He laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Guess that was a little too much to hope for, huh?”

Akaashi smiles at him. “A little. Oikawa was generous with what he gave us, but I don’t think we could have even carried what we needed to head straight to the university without any stops.”

“Well, let’s not worry about it for now. Just thinking ahead is all.”

“That’s what we do.”

“We’ll get set up for tonight and worry about that,” Kuroo says, patting Akaashi on the shoulder as he turns to rejoin Kenma and Bokuto who wait patiently for them by the side of the road. “We won’t have to even think about making any kind of stops for another couple of days at least. We worry too much,” he says over his shoulder to Akaashi.

“Yeah, well, that worrying is what’s kept us alive this long.”

Kuroo laughs again. “True.”

Coming together again, the group starts off through the trees, warning each other of thorns and unsteady rocks. It had become habit by now, even just after a few days. That’s how teams seem to work ever since the outbreak. Trust is harder to find and build than ever, but once the foundation is laid, it grows like weeds, quickly and hard to break. Akaashi remembers the first day where Bokuto had bent a low tree branch out of the way and released it unknowingly right into Kuroo’s face. It had been funny, but only after knowing it wasn’t something more serious than a face full of leaves and Kuroo’s sharp words that eventually turned into laughter. Now, Bokuto points out a jagger bush to Kenma and tells him a better way around. Akaashi’s heart can’t help but swell at their little team’s progress.

They venture far enough so that the road disappears behind them and the undergrowth has thinned out. Without being told, everyone starts their jobs. Bokuto and Kenma search the area, making sure it’s safe and collecting firewood. Akaashi prepares the space they’ll camp in for the night, digging the fire pit and clearing away any twigs and rocks. Kuroo’s job is making sure the area is guarded well enough. He takes any fallen branches and the twigs gathered by Akaashi to set further out around camp. If any infected come in the night, they’ll hear them before they see them. They can’t protect themselves well out here, but the least they can do is try and give themselves a decent warning first.

It goes like clockwork, smooth and quickly. Akaashi gets the fire going with help from the lighter in his backpack. Being out in the middle of nowhere means that they shouldn’t have to fear anyone seeing their smoke and finding them. Unpopulated places also mean fewer infected. There’s nothing to eat out here so he hopes no infected have wondered their way out here. They should have another calm and uneventful night. If their luck holds that is.

As the light drains from the sky, the group returns to their temporary camp, settling around the growing fire. There’s no need to work out watch schedules. By now they know what order they’ll be sitting up guarding and who to wake next.

Akaashi is grateful that the ground is dry. They managed to cram a few thin blankets into their packs, but there was no point in trying to add sleeping bags to their already heavy load. He can be thankful now for a dry bottom and, later, back when it comes time to sleep, but he knows it can’t stay like this. Soon the rains will come and, unless they find some sort of shelter outside of towns and cities, they’ll be sleeping soaked through, try as they might to make camp dry. It will also mean a less secure camp. Dry wood will be hard to find and if any infected sneak up on them they’ll never hear them in the rain.

A finger reaches out and pokes his cheek, nearly making Akaashi jump out of his skin. Kuroo and Bokuto laugh. “Your face is real sour looking, Akaashi,” Bokuto says, having been the one to poke him. “Did you swallow a bug?”

“No, Bokuto,” Akaashi says with a sigh. “It’s nothing to worry about.” At least not a worry for the moment.

Bokuto shrugs it off, not one to be concerned if told not to be. He smiles at Akaashi before turning his eyes to watch the flames crackle. A pile of wood collected by Kenma and him sit not too far away. It should last the night.

At Bokuto’s smile, Akaashi realizes how close Bokuto had sat down next to him, mirroring Kuroo and Kenma who sit across the fire. Akaashi feels his face flush, which he can only blame on the fire’s heat. Its red glow will hopefully cover up his blush.

The wind turns and the smoke blows over them. Bokuto coughs, but while unpleasant, Akaashi welcomes the smoke. He hopes it will keep the bugs off of them in the night. He catches Bokuto scratching at red bites Akaashi spies scattered across the back of his shoulder with the sleeve lifted up. Reaching over, he gently slaps Bokuto’s hand away.

“Stop that. You’ll only make it worse.”

Bokuto groans loudly and flops onto his back. “If only we had something for these bites!” he says with exasperation. “They’re driving me crazy!”

Akaashi hushes him softly. “Shh, we may not be alone out here. Keep your voice down, Bokuto.”

Huffing out a breath and a pouting, Bokuto rolls over onto his side to face him. “Yes, Akaashi,” he mumbles.

Akaashi smiles and pats his head, which hasn’t been gelled in days and flops loosely on his forehead. His fingers stray there longer than necessary, maybe a little surprised at how soft Bokuto’s hair is after seeing it stuck stiffly in position with the gel.

A little too quickly, he pulls his hand back into his lap, where he plays with his fingers away from anyone’s view. He catches Kuroo’s eye in glancing away from Bokuto. Kuroo casts him a knowing smirk before murmuring something to Kenma. Akaashi looks away hoping the smoke will blow back into their faces.

He slaps away a bug on his arm. Like Bokuto, his skin is also littered with bites. They make his skin twitch and beg to be scratched at. He would give anything to rake his fingernails over his arms and legs and back. But he must do as he tells Bokuto. Itching would only make them worse. Breaking the skin would mean bleeding and possible infection. Not the kind from the outbreak, but that could turn into a concern, too. So many open wounds would definitely be bad.

Akaashi wraps his arms around his knees, pulled up to his chest. He fights to ignore the bites. Eventually, he lays down next to Bokuto. They are inches apart. It’s too hot in this weather to sleep much closer. For some reason, he thinks back to how they slept just after Bokuto’s fever. He shifts, turning over. It’s too hot out for those kinds of thoughts.

Akaashi hears Kenma laying down, too. If it’s like previous nights, he’ll be curled up next to Kuroo, the warm temperatures apparently not bothering them. Akaashi’s not tired, but Kuroo takes first watch. So he waits, watching the fire burn lower. Kuroo reaches out to place another log on the fire. Willing himself to sleep, Akaashi closes his eyes. He has the last watch so he better sleep while he can. At some point, he drifts off, Bokuto’s back pressed against his.

**———**

A shove wakes him up, accidentally rolling him over and planting his face in the dirt. A harsh whisper hisses in his ear. “Akaashi! Akaashi, there’s infected!”

It’s Bokuto and his breath on his neck sends and the message it carries shivers down his back and his arms. Akaashi feels Bokuto’s presence at his back vanish and he scrambles to his feet, gazing around wildly. Kenma and Kuroo are on their feet as well. Kuroo has his gun out and hands another from his pack to Kenma, quickly explaining how to use it while starting to pull him away from the campsite. Akaashi grabs his backpack as well, slinging it on, before following. Bokuto’s not far behind as he wrestles with his pack in front of him and digs for the gun Akaashi had given him what seems like so long ago. With a small, victorious gasp, he wrenches it free, zips the bag, and pulls it over his shoulders. Akaashi doesn’t have the breath to shush him.

He’s panting, heart thundering in his ears. The adrenaline pumps through his veins at the rude awakening and the cause behind it. They’re not even running yet. Sleep has finally cleared from his head as he concentrates on following Kuroo through the trees. He realizes with a drop of his heart that they’re heading away from the road and the noises of snapping branches and ruffled undergrowth are sounding at their backs. The infected really are after them.

He wants Bokuto to shake him awake for real now. To tell him that he’s been rolling around in his sleep with a nightmare. He wants this to be a dream.

Unfortunately, Bokuto has already woken him. He knows this by the sting of the branches against his bare arms and cheeks. He checks over his shoulder to make sure Bokuto is following closely, then squints up ahead to be sure that Kuroo and Kenma are still in sight. They are, but it’s still night and he can just barely make them out.

The sounds pick up behind them and their slow pace to keep hidden is forced to pick up speed. The crunching of forest debris beneath their feet comes louder, giving them away, but they must give up their silence. If they don’t hurry, the infected will definitely be on them in minutes.

Akaashi looks over his shoulder, trying to spot their attackers in the gloom, but he misses the drop in front of him. The forest floor dips down a hill steep enough that, without noticing it, Akaashi loses his footing, feet tripping beneath him, and falls down onto his shoulder. He rolls the rest of the way down to where the ground levels out once more.

He sits up quickly, but freezes on his knees, hands planted in front of him. Immediately, all he hears is his hard breathing as he pants to catch his breath from running and the fall. The infected sound farther off, but, in glancing around, he finds that the others are nowhere in sight. They must have made a turn when he wasn’t looking or he had lost them in the dark. While he’s sure they can take care of themselves, his heart pounds all the faster. Those anxieties pop back up in his head and his mind is clouded with the memory of swearing to protect Bokuto.

He promised he’d keep him safe. He promised. How can he do that when they’re separated? What if Bokuto is lost and on his own as well? They’ll never find each other again. Then the Crows will never get the cure and it will be all his fault for not paying attention.

No. He shakes his head roughly. This is exactly what Kuroo was talking about back in Tozawa. This is why he and Kenma came along, to help protect Bokuto. Akaashi’s sure that they’ve stuck together throughout this mess. Bokuto is definitely safe. Akaashi just needs to find his way back to them and everything will be fine. That’s why Kuroo’s here after all. Akaashi needs to trust him. And he does.

His ears prick at the sound of something approaching. The staggered gait and the way it doesn’t hide its presence tells him it’s an infected. Standing up and squaring off to face it, he can only hope it’s alone. He must kill it silently. Any noise could draw out his friends, but it could also attract more infected, which would be far worse. Of the two, he’d rather keep the infected away for as long as possible.

Through the shadows, he spies the figure. It’s a middle-aged man with a gaunt looking face that a thick beard fails to hide. What once was a clean, crisp dress shirt, hangs in tatters. As he approaches, Akaashi has the time to wonder if he had once had a tie to complete the look. A twisted ankle beneath his slacks shows why he’s moving at such a slow pace. Though he seems harmless now, Akaashi is sure that, had his fall done more damage, he could have easily become this thing’s midnight snack.

Akaashi doesn’t waste any more time. He attacks the infected from the side, quickly to give it no time to react. Grabbing a fistful of what’s left of his shirt, he drags the head forward, being sure to stay clear of chomping teeth that click in empty air. With the back of the skull exposed, he slams the butt of his gun into it. Again and again, he repeats this action until the infected man goes limp and his hand is bloody and covered in what’s most likely chunks of brain. It’s too dark to tell. He lets the infected slide to the ground and shakes his hands off before wiping it on his jeans.

The sky above him is beginning to show the barest hints of dawn, though it doesn’t do much to lighten under the trees. Akaashi is still left in the darkness, but now with an upcoming sunrise to lift his spirits. That is, if he’s able to meet back up with Kuroo and the others. He just hopes that they have managed to stick together.

Akaashi decides to start hiking left. It’s all blind luck, he figures, and he’d rather not head in the direction they had come. He doesn’t want to run into any more slowpokes like the infected he had just killed. Besides, it makes sense. If he hasn’t gotten all turned around in these trees, left should take him west, the direction they had initially been heading.

This attack will probably delay them this morning. Just another setback to slow them down. They’ll definitely need to find some kind of town or city now, the smaller the better. Maybe they’re close to one being so far off track. If he keeps heading west, maybe he’ll walk straight into one. Maybe Kuroo, Kenma, and Bokuto will be there, too. The thought of them makes him quicken his pace. He has enough supplies with him, but if he is unable to meet back up with the group, then he’ll have to restock on his own. Entering a town by himself is definitely not something he wants to do right now. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he treks on.

**———**

Though he can’t see the sun’s exact position through the trees, Akaashi guesses it to be around midmorning. He’s still on his own, keeping his fast pace that he had set before dawn. The others don’t normally walk this fast even on the road, but on his own, Akaashi doesn’t have anyone else to cater to, and he’s desperate to find them. The faster he goes, the faster he’ll burn himself out, but he wants to find them before that happens. Or for them to find him, he doesn’t really care.

The sweat slides down his face and he’s already sweated through his shirt. Wanting to save his water, he only had a few gulps about an hour ago and hasn’t touched any of the food. His stomach feels strangely empty, but not hungry in the least.

Ahead of him, the trees are beginning to thin. His heart surges at the thought of finally leaving the forest. He’s gathered even more bug bites and the only good thing about that is that they’re not bites from any infected. It’s lucky he’s managed to keep himself safe on his own for so long. All he can cling to is that his luck doesn’t run out. His pace picks up into what can hardly be considered a jog, the fastest he can get his legs to move. They feel as though weighted down by lead.

But has it all really been luck? Stomping through the undergrowth toward the tree line, he thinks back to what Bokuto had said in Tozawa during their argument. He said it had nothing to do with luck. Akaashi had been angry then, and a little bit scared, everything seemed to be falling apart. Things seem to be just as bad now, but at least he’s seeing some progress finding this road.

He hadn’t thought about Bokuto’s words at the time, but now, thinking about luck, he realize just how much faith he puts on it. Maybe there’s no such thing as it after all. Sighing deeply, he hopes he’s lucky enough to find Bokuto soon and unharmed. He can’t really seem to pin his faith on strength at the moment. The air’s too quiet around him. He misses Bokuto’s loud voice filling it.

Beyond the trees is a two-lane road. From the signs, it appears to be coming from the one they had been traveling on. For the first time all day it seems, Akaashi can finally breathe. He’s not as lost as he had feared after all.

He turns to follow the road into town instead of rejoining the freeway. This has to be the closest town to where they were before the infected crashed in and he and Kuroo always plan to meet back up in towns. If the others are still together, Akaashi has to believe that Kuroo took them to this town to hold up. That would be a good place to wait for him as dangerous as it is to be in a once populated place.

The road he follows is calm enough. There are clear signs panic and chaos of the outbreak and the destruction that continued long afterwards. As humid as it is, the sun shines through clear skies, promising a beautiful, though hot, day. Akaashi allows himself to be hopeful, if at least for a few minutes. He settles into an easier pace.

The town isn’t big, but as soon as he enters, he knows it’s more trouble than it’s worth. The sounds of infected come from around every corner. He’s not sure why the road leading in was so calm when it’s clearly hell within. Crouching against the brick wall of a building to hide, he can only imagine that this town had seen the worst of the outbreak. It might have begun in Tokyo and other big cities, but for some towns tucked out of the way like this one, they didn’t hear any word of the infection until it was right on top of them and it was too late. He doubts anyone made it out of this town alive. Either they were infected or they became dinner. Maybe a few tried to survive the first week or so only to meet one of those ends later. Akaashi thinks how awful it would have been if he and the others had been trapped in Tokyo. Thank goodness for Iwaizumi, he thinks and it’s not a rare thought. He’ll owe Iwaizumi for the rest of his life, especially if he thinks he can go to him for favors like he had tried to do with Bokuto. Iwaizumi didn’t deserve that. Only looking back can Akaashi see how stupid it was.

Shaking his head, Akaashi brings himself out of the past. It’s a dangerous place to be stuck in, but not more dangerous than where he’s stuck in the present.

He turns the corner, positive now that the infected that were feeding on the other side have moved on. He’s not sure exactly what he’s looking for. He can guess that Kuroo will be on guard looking wherever they’re at. Maybe he’ll be lucky and walk straight past them. Or maybe they’ll just bump right into each other.

If only this city weren’t so infested, he could call out to reach them. But that’s impossible with the town how it is.

Maybe he’ll just give up and go home. Wherever that is.

The thought hits him just as the sun settles directly overhead. It’s hotter than ever and he’s starting to think maybe he should scavenge up some supplies before moving on.

But moving onto to what?

Does he keep going in the same direction? Doing what Kuroo had done to meet in Tozawa or just giving up altogether. Surely that’s completely out of the question.

Even though it’s only afternoon now, he’s exhausted. He’s been running around all day with hardly anything to drink and nothing to eat. Plus dodging all those infected in town has really put a strain on his mental state. His anxiety has gone through the roof.

Suddenly, a hand slides over his mouth from behind and he’s pulled roughly against the chest of the same person. All he can do is inhale sharply through his nose.

Before he can panic too much, a voice whispers roughly into his ear, “Don’t yell, I didn’t want to surprise you.”

“Kuroo,” Akaashi mutters as the hand falls away and relief washes down his back like cool rainwater. He turns to see Kuroo a little rough for wear with hair even messier than usual, but alone.

Again, Kuroo speaks before Akaashi can get a question in, keeping his voice a whisper. “I couldn’t think of a way to get your attention without scaring you. Looked tense enough to jump a meter in the air if I even tried getting a word in.” His eyes glitter mischievously at Akaashi. “They’re safe. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Bokuto’s been a fucking wreck.” Akaashi opens his mouth to speak, but Kuroo holds up a hand to stop him, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “A shit ton of infected that-a-way. We can talk later.” He gestures Akaashi to follow him.

Kuroo leads up roads and through tight alleyways that Akaashi would have missed otherwise. He moves as if he’s lived here all his life. Akaashi can only imagine him searching up and down streets looking for him. He looks as exhausted as Akaashi feels.

The building Kuroo stops at isn’t far. It’s an old business building, made of all windows, which most are surprisingly still intact, and is the tallest building in the town even though it only rises six or so stories, Akaashi guesses.

“We’ll have to take the stares,” Kuroo says, smiling apologetically over his shoulder.

Akaashi shrugs. “We’ve been running around all day. What’s a bit more?”

Kuroo’s smile grows and then he gazes back at the door leading to the stairs. “Not far now,” he says, almost to himself, as if pumping up enough energy for the last stretch.

They don’t climb too many floors. After all, there’s not many to climb. Still, Akaashi loses track of how many stairs they cover. Not only is his body exhausted, so is his mind. He’s ready to crash as soon as they meet back up with Kuroo and Bokuto and he assures that Bokuto is unscathed and okay. That’s all that’s keeping him going at this point.

Both are huffing to catch their breaths by the time Kuroo turns through a door instead of starting up the next flight. Akaashi sighs gratefully between breaths.

This floor looks to be a normal office building with cubicles and desks set up. Or at least they would have been before the outbreak. Now, cubicle walls have fallen, desks overturned, and chairs tipped. Even the potted plants had crashed to the floor, spilling their dirt over the carpeted floors. Two heads pop up at the sound of the door opening and their footsteps. Akaashi hears the sound of a gun being grabbed and cocked, but it’s soon forgotten when Kenma and Bokuto realized there are no intruders, just Kuroo and Akaashi. At the sight of Akaashi, Bokuto’s eyes widen and he grins, rushing over, even jumping over a fallen desk, to greet them. And that’s all Akaashi cares about.

“Akaashi! You’re alright!” Bokuto’s hands come up to catch hold of Akaashi’s face, anything but gentle. They squeeze a bit too tight as Bokuto looks him over. Akaashi doesn’t really mind, he’s too busy doing the same. He doesn’t even notice Kuroo leaving them in favor of Kenma’s company. At first glance, Bokuto looks alright. It’s clear he’s had a sleepless night and a busy day, plus he spots some scratches on his face and arms.

Akaashi grips one of Bokuto’s arms, stabling himself. It’s probably all those stairs he’s just climbed. “You’re not hurt are you?”

“No, I’m fine,” Bokuto says with a grin. “Just a bite here, that's all.”

Akaashi’s heart seems to stop beating altogether in that moment. “What?” he’s just barely able to get out.

Bokuto takes his hands from Akaashi’s face and reaches to his shoulder, though the free hand is still claimed by Akaashi. He sees a bloody tear in the shoulder of his shirt and underneath is the bite. Akaashi feels himself go cold and he can’t seem to do more than take in shallow breaths.

“It’s fine, really,” Bokuto insists, seeing Akaashi’s reaction. He moves his hand to grip Akaashi’s upper arm, obviously concerned. “I cleaned it out and it’s not even bleeding anymore.”

Akaashi shakes his head, hoping to rid himself of the fear that had been building up somewhere in his stomach. He keeps telling himself over and over again that Bokuto’s immune. Because of that, he doesn’t have to worry about things like this. Still, he can hardly shake the habit of reacting to a bite. Even being harmless, it has still shaken him.

“What happened after we were separated?” he asks, pointedly changing the subject.

Bokuto frowns at the question, brows narrowing almost in confusion. “We’ve been trying to work that out. I was following right behind you, but I must’ve looked away for a second or something because the next thing I knew, I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“He tried getting us to look for you, but it was so dark and the infected were nearly on us,” Kuroo adds from where he lounged on the floor with Kenma, leaning back against a cubicle that still stands. “I told him we’d never find you like this.”

“Kuroo told him you were smart. You would find us,” Kenma also puts in.

Bokuto stares at his feet, having stepped away from Akaashi. “I wanted to stay behind to find you, but they said we had to stick together.”

Kuroo nods at the memory. “You may be immune, but those infected can still rip you to shreds. And look, Akaashi still found us. Told you he’s resourceful.”

Sighing, Akaashi runs a hand through his sweat-matted hair. The tips curl from the dampness. “I’m just glad I found you guys. You did exactly what I thought you’d do.”

Clearing his throat, Kuroo says teasingly, “Let’s remember who found who, right?”

“Of course,” Akaashi says with a laugh. He pulls at Bokuto’s sleeve to lead him over to where Kuroo and Kenma sit. “Have you guys eaten recently? I’m starving.”

“Me too,” Kuroo says, licking his chapped lips hungrily. “Haven’t had a thing all day.”

Kenma gives him a hard look. “I told you to take something with you,” he says. “Did you at least drink?”

Scratching his check guiltily, Kuroo glances away. “I forgot.” He laughs then and playfully ruffles Kenma’s hair. “Remember, you used to be the one that needed reminded to eat.”

Shrugging Kenma pushes his hand away, but slides closer. “You’ll be dehydrated,” he mumbles.

While Akaashi and Kuroo break into their supplies, Bokuto points at both Kuroo and Kenma. “So back in Tozawa you guys said you sent to high school together? How’d you meet?” he asks.

With his mouth stuffed full, Akaashi hides the fact that he’s thankful Bokuto had asked more about Kenma. He had been wondering the same thing, especially after knowing Kuroo for so long. He also didn’t want to pry or be rude, which is mostly why he had avoided the subject.

Kuroo casts a quick look at Kenma, seemingly asking for his permission. Kenma in turn shrugs again, looking as indifferent as ever. He turns to Bokuto, but only after smirking at Kenma first. “I can’t remember when we met exactly,” he says, tapping at his chin thoughtfully before spooning up another bite of soup with the can’s lid.

“Probably junior high actually,” Kenma says, twiddling his fingers, but looking up at Kuroo through his bangs.

Kuroo waves him off. “Nah, that was the first time we went to the same school together, but we were always neighbors, right?”

Kenma shakes his head.

“Oh right, you moved in at some point.” Again, Kuroo changes from looking at Kenma to Bokuto. “We’ve known each other for a pretty long time.” He smiles and then looks back to Kenma who nods, making him laugh.

There are still a bunch of questions burning on Akaashi’s tongue. Before he can second guess himself, he decides to ask one before the conversation drops. “Why have we never met?” He tries to ask the question innocently enough, not wanting Kuroo to think he’s accusing him of anything.

It’s Kuroo’s turn to clam up, shrugging and glancing away. Kenma is the one to answer this time, casting a quick frustrated glance at Kuroo.

“He was very intent on keeping me out of anything dangerous. You know we lived with Yamamoto and some others. Kuroo worked very hard to get us into a better district.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo sighs, but doesn’t try to do anything else to stop the younger boy’s explanation.

So that’s why Kuroo had been so willing to leave Yamamoto behind. He had been looking after Kenma and was willing to do whatever he could to keep both of them safe, even if that meant breaking up his old group

“He joined the Crows when there were no more jobs to find and food was low and he still wouldn’t let me help out.” As uninterested as Kenma’s voice sounds, Akaashi can’t help but to think he detects a bit of anger hidden in it. It’s silent for a bit longer, like Kenma’s waiting for Kuroo to step in and start talking again. Akaashi and Bokuto stay quiet in order for them to figure it out themselves, in their own telepathic-like way. “Anyway,” Kenma starts back up again, “that’s why we haven’t met before recently, Akaashi.”

Akaashi nods his thanks, still unsettled about speaking before Kuroo.

“Oh, enough with the gloomy stuff,” he grunts at last. “Let’s get a plan together and the enjoy the night for once. We have a secure place to stay without any of those damn mosquitos.”

Of course this secure place is right in the middle of one of the most infested towns Akaashi has seen, but Kuroo’s attitude has snapped right back to normal and it’s enough to calm him. That’s exactly what they need. A good solid plan and then maybe a nice night protected from the elements and enjoying each other’s company.

Together, they plan out the next day. Akaashi and Kuroo do most of the strategizing while Kenma and Bokuto pitch in with what their supplies is lacking most of. Kuroo knows most of the town well enough from combing through it earlier for Akaashi to plan out a schedule of which shops to hit and where. He draws a rough map of the town out so the others will know where they’re going. That way they plan the best route to get the most supplies and then out of this town as fast as possible.

“We might have to make another stop after this,” Akaashi says slowly after looking through their stuff.

Kuroo sighs. Akaashi sees reluctant agreement in his eyes, but his mouth asks, “You really think so?”

He agrees with him. Akaashi really doesn’t want to stop in another town that could be just as infected as this one, but he doesn’t think they’ll have much of a choice. “We weren’t planning on stopping for another couple of days. We have the supplies to last us that long so with this run we’ll just be refilling half of our bags instead of gathering as much as we can carry. It’s a wasted stop, but because of those infected last night, we might as well make the most of it.”

“I figured as much,” Kuroo says in a resigned manner, shaking his head.

Together, Akaashi and Kuroo repack their bags, making as much space as possible. “It’ll be alright. We turn in early tonight, then set out at dawn tomorrow.”

Hearing his words, Bokuto groans from he sits close by with Kenma. Akaashi smiles at his antics, but otherwise chooses to ignore him. There’s nothing he can do to make Bokuto feel better about waking up early.

**———**

The rest of the evening passes by uneventfully. They eat another small meal, sitting next to the large window pains to watch the sun set, their view unobstructed by any other taller buildings or trees. Then the clouds roll in so, when the rain comes, they watch the streaming droplets roll down the windows. They put any thoughts of traveling in it tomorrow from their heads and instead focus on idle chatter. For once, talk comes easy and doesn’t feel forced like the past nights when everyone was anxious about sleeping out in the open. Everyone feels safe here, even forgetting about the many infected lurking out below them.

Akaashi watches Kenma’s eyes start to droop and he feels his own tiredness pressing in again. He had been pushing it back all evening, wanting to spend this time with his friends instead of sleeping. Seeing Kenma now, makes him remember his exhaustion. He could probably just drift off right here, despite Kuroo and Bokuto’s loud, boisterous conversation. In fact, he likes the way Bokuto’s loud laughter vibrates through his body from where he leans his back up against his shoulder.

Kenma stands suddenly, waking Akaashi from the doze he was starting to slip into. “I’m tired,” he says, cutting off the conversation and looking down at Kuroo. He had been watching him with confusion when he had started standing up. “Good night.”

“I think I’m going to turn in for the night as well,” Akaashi says, getting to his feet to follow Kenma out of the room. He glances back over his shoulder to smile at the two sprawled out on the floor. “Good night.”

“Night, Akaashi,” Bokuto calls with one of those smiles that has Akaashi’s stomach fluttering. He concentrates on swallowing that feeling down and nearly misses hearing Kuroo wishing him the same, but he does miss one of Kuroo’s infamous smirks at his back. It can only mean trouble for the future, but he pushes it to the back of his mind.

Akaashi closes the door behind him and Kenma, blocking out the light from Bokuto and Kuroo’s flashlights and casting them into the dark, only the light of the moon shining through the window. Kenma stops to look out of it. The night’s a clear one. The stars and moon illuminate the streets below, which is unsettling. Akaashi would rather not see the shadows move. As carefree as the night has been, he wishes they were miles away, hidden in the trees, camped off the side of a road, and heading north at last. This stop they’ve had to make strains his anxiety. He doesn’t think he’s taken a deep breath since they stepped into town. Maybe once, after finding Bokuto safe and sound and mostly unharmed.

“So you’re calling it an early night, too?” Akaashi asks as he spreads out the blankets they had scavenged up.

Shrugging, Kenma crouches down next to him to help.

He’s not the kind to make conversation easy and normally Akaashi wouldn’t press it. Maybe that’s why Kenma has taken to Bokuto more than him. Bokuto makes more of an effort to talk to Kenma, well, not really a conscious effort. That’s all wrapped up in Bokuto’s nature. It’s who he is. He reaches out and makes people care. Akaashi would know. He doesn’t think he’d be here otherwise.

“It’s too loud for me,” Akaashi continues in a quieter voice.

“Kuroo likes Bokuto,” Kenma says to the floor. “It’s good to see him laughing with someone again.”

Akaashi gnaws on his lip. “Don’t you like Kuroo, too?” he asks, trying to mask the caution in his voice.

To his surprise, Kenma laughs. It’s quiet and not much of one, but it’s definitely a laugh. “That’s different,” he says and doesn’t elaborate. As soon as the words leave his lips, the smile slides away and any echo of the laugh disappears, as if it had never happened in the first place. They stay crouched in that silence that feels heavy on their shoulders, like it’s missing something important, but Akaashi can’t think of anything else to say. “Can I ask you something?”

Moving to sit down, Akaashi nods. “Sure.”

Kenma sits facing him. “Kuroo told me about what happened to you the night of the outbreak.” He stops, watching Akaashi’s reaction carefully for a moment. “Can I still ask?”

“Sure,” Akaashi repeats, trying to sound indifferent, but he still thinks his voice sounds funny. He swallows thickly, playing with his fingers in his lap.

“You’ve seen someone get bit.”

“I’ve seen a lot of people get bit,” Akaashi corrects. “Not just that night.”

Kenma gazes down at his feet, but he keeps glancing back up at Akaashi, as if waiting for a kind of signal that the conversation has crossed some invisible line. “Kuroo doesn’t like talking about it, but what is it like when someone tells you that they’re infected?”

Staring hard at Kenma, Akaashi considers his response, not liking the way his heart thumps in his chest and in his ears. He decides on being honest. It sounds like Kuroo’s been protecting Kenma for far too long now. He’s not a kid and deserves to know these kinds of things.

“It’s terrifying,” he gets out. Clearing his throat, he continues. “There’s nothing you can do to save them, but you know you have to do something. You have to be the one to take responsibility and it’s responsibility for everything, yourself, the group, them, especially them. You have to realize that they’re even more afraid and that their fear is more justified that yours. Yours can be pushed down until later, but it’s different for them and you can never understand that. If I’m able, I put them first. Find out what they need and what I can do for them while we figure everything out. They have to understand the situation and, fortunately, most do.”

“What do they need to understand?” Kenma asks softly.

Akaashi isn’t paying much attention to him now. His eyes are focused somewhere far away, remembering. “That there’s only one option, but they need to make that decision. I’ve seen it go down the other way and it’s horrible and harder on everyone. After that, it just comes down to how. Usually they don’t want to be the ones to do it.”

“No.”

“I’ve seen it tear groups apart,” Akaashi says, turning back to Kenma. “People won’t use common sense and they want to wait it out. Then the group splits and with emotions high things get messy and more people die.” He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, thinking of Konoha and of Kiyoko and of everyone else. He lets the breath go and opens his eyes back to Kenma. “The important thing is that you do everything you can for them. I can’t think of anything worse than knowing you’re infected, knowing what comes next, the waiting. So you do anything in your power to ease that moment for them.

“And you’re still doing that, aren’t you?”

Akaashi’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

“You’re still trying to do that for them, even though they’re already gone.”

Looking away, his frown deepens. “I keep my promises. Sometimes, that’s the last thing they know.” They sit in silence for a long time, neither of them moving. The cloud of memories lifts and, slowly, like puzzle pieces, his thoughts start coming together. “Why did you ask?” he asks, his voice hardly a whisper, but his mind is asking the real question. _Do you think you’ve been bitten?_

And his eyes draw to Kenma’s only movement, to pull his jeans further down around his right ankle. And, even in the dark, Akaashi sees the red angry colored skin and the dried blood that has also stained his pants.

“Have you told anyone?” he asks quickly. Kenma can’t pretend he’s fooled him.

He offers a quick shake of his head, avoiding Akaashi’s eyes. “Kuro was gone all day and—you know Bokuto.”

He has a point, Akaashi thinks grimly. He can’t imagine how Bokuto would have reacted to this kind of news. Akaashi doesn’t think he’s quite ready to handle that responsibility. But he can and that’s what he needs to do now, exactly what he’s just told Kenma. They need to figure this out quickly.

“You need to tell Kuroo,” he says, locking eyes with Kenma. He stares back without flinching, but he holds a hand over the bite. Akaashi sees it shaking, betraying the boy’s fears.

“I couldn’t. Not tonight. He hardly ever laughs anymore. Not like that.”

A storm of emotions washes over Akaashi. So much frustration and sadness and anger. He hardly knows Kenma, but just knowing what this will do to his friend is tearing him up inside. He feels the crushing weight of the inevitable on his chest and he can barely breathe. The warm sleepiness from earlier feels far, far away now.

“I have a while before it happens. I wasn’t bit until we were in the city this morning. It was when Bokuto was, too.” Kenma looks away nervously. “The longest it takes to settle in is thirty-six hours right? I have some time to deal with this.”

That’s the longest Akaashi has heard of, but he’s never actually seen it in person. He’d rather not test that theory. He gathers his blanket to head into the next room.

Gulping down any doubts, he comes to terms with his decision and looks back at Kenma over his shoulder. “You tell Kuroo tomorrow, or I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will definitely not be as long of wait for the next chapter, but because of my unfortunate limited writing time, I can't promise it will be an exact week like what I had been doing. I do promise that I will post it as soon as it is finished!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's kept with me through all this and thank you ever so much for the reviews and kudos :)
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard)
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0KZuZF01FA)


	10. The Parting Glass, part 2

Akaashi wakes alone in some single office. The sun is shining dimly on the horizon, through clouds, but it hasn’t yet broke. Somewhere in the night, he had thrown his blanket off of him. He collects it now, folding it slowly as he glances around the room. There’s nothing that draws his attention other than the fine layer of dust building on the desk’s wooden surface. Grabbing his backpack, he turns to leave, already grumpier than usual. He must have pushed the chair against the door before he had fallen asleep last night, just in case, if someone were to come in, he would know right away. It’s impossible not to be a light sleeper these days, at least in his case and everyone else he knows. Bokuto may be an exception, he thinks, looking back on the numerous times he had to roughly shake him awake.

At the thought, he feels his heart drop just a little. He realizes Bokuto hadn’t tried to find him last night before sleeping. Akaashi allows it to bother him for a second too many before shaking it away. Knowing Bokuto, he probably fell asleep talking to Kuroo late into the night.

This time it’s his stomach that twists uncomfortably. He remembers now why he had been sure to shut himself in this room last night. His conversation with Kenma comes flooding back and his grip on the blanket tightens.

There’s a lot he wants to say, to yell, to break, but thinking of Kuroo and Kenma brings on a feeling that’s all too familiar and it drains him of his strength, making him feel weak and tired instead. All he wants to do is curl back up and go to sleep, but he knows he can’t do that. He needs to see Kenma’s promise through and then be there to pick up the pieces. Sighing, his hand hesitates on the doorknob. He was really starting to like Kenma, but he worries more for Kuroo and what this will do to him. His hand leaves the knob, trying unsuccessfully to rub out a headache, before finally wrenching the door open. This is going to be a long day and Akaashi would give anything to walk away from it.

He scowls at his selfishness as he walks down the hall back to the main room they had camped out in just the other day. He does get to walk away from this, at the end of the day—he and Bokuto and Kuroo—they’ll all get to keep going to finish the job and reach the Crows. Kenma can’t. For him, this is his last sunrise, as cloudy as it may be, heavy with the day’s promised rain. Glancing out the window, Akaashi wonders if the boy knows this and is watching it lighten the horizon, too. His scowl deepens.

Akaashi finds Bokuto and Kuroo exactly where he left them, only they’re not exactly chatting and laughing away like they had been last night. Kuroo sleeps face down on the carpet, showing exactly how he gets that awful bedhead of his. Bokuto has one of his arms thrown over his face and snores loudly. If he had been more awake, Akaashi would’ve clearly heard it as he came down the hall. Kenma remains to be seen, but he assumes he won’t have to wait long. Putting himself in those shoes, he wouldn’t have slept a wink last night. He remembers tossing and turning hours ago in search of some much needed rest, caught in the middle of wakefulness and that desperately sought after unconsciousness. That awful period where time doesn’t exist and you float, trying to think of nothing in order to shut down, but your mind seems to do anything else. All those possible situations coming and going in half planned out strategies of what to do today and he thinks he might’ve had a good plan, yet he just can’t seem to think of it now.

Blinking, he realizes that the snores have stopped and that a pair of eyes are watching him closely.

“Someone’s looking extra grumpy this morning,” Bokuto drawls out as he stretches his arms, arching his back so that is cracks unpleasantly.

Akaashi spares a glance to Kuroo, but he only sleeps on, or pretends to, Akaashi really can’t tell with him. He sits down next to Bokuto and grabs some of the leftovers from last night’s dinner. Apparently the two hadn’t bothered to clean up. They probably really did asleep talking away, which is just like them of course. They didn’t have that luxury outside with only some sparsely placed trees and some twigs to protect them.

“That, or something’s on you mind,” Bokuto says, any playfulness gone from his voice, eyes looking extra serious.

Akaashi takes a second to really look at him. He’s come a long way throughout all this. The seriousness is unsettling and very much unlike him. Plus he was hoping Bokuto wouldn’t be able to read him so easily. He really must be tired then. Taking another second, Akaashi composes himself, wipes the worry from his mind, at least tries to, putting on a mask of normalcy if nothing else. Bokuto will have to deal with this sooner or later, just like Kuroo. Akaashi would rather that be later, if he can help it.

“Maybe I’m falling into your habits, Bokuto,” he says lightly. “Your dislike of waking up at the crack of dawn, maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”

Just as he was hoping for, Bokuto’s concern washes away as his face splits into a teasing grin. “I knew you’d come around eventually, Akaashi. Does that mean we can sleep in tomorrow? It’d be great to take a break.”

Snorting awake, Kuroo rolls over to face them. “Bro, Tozawa was our break. No more holidays until we get to the Crows. Then you can party all you want before we head back.”

“But maybe we can allow for an extra hour of sleep tomorrow,” Akaashi says, trying for a smile to give the two. It’s the least he can give them after a hard day like he knows today will be.

Kuroo shrugs and rolls back over, not bothering to cover a yawn. “Whatever you two want. What do I care if we waste an hour of travel time?”

Laughing, Bokuto roughly pats each in turn, nearly knocking Akaashi over and shaking Kuroo awake enough that going back to sleep is hardly an option. “You guys are the best! Wait until I tell Kenma!”

As Bokuto jumps to his feet to go find Kenma, Akaashi turns back to his food instead of answering. He feels his skin crawl at the thought of Bokuto finding Kenma already turned, but even though that is a possibility, he lets him go without a word. Stopping him would cause attention and if Kenma is fine, Akaashi would be breaking the promise he’d made to himself. He wanted him to have the chance to tell the others first. Besides, he’s confident enough now that Bokuto can take care of himself, even though he tries to ignore the fear sliding down his back.

“You’re getting soft.”

Akaashi just barely keeps himself from flinching out of his thoughts to face Kuroo’s joking smirk. He swallows down a mouthful of old soup, choking a bit after forgetting to chew properly, and shrugs. “It’s the least I can do,” he says. “It’s been a rough journey so far—”

“So let’s sleep an extra longer with the bugs and the rain. Yay,” Kuroo cheers dryly.

Akaashi tries to ignore the sarcasm in his words. It’s not hard. That will all be worth it for how excited the idea has Bokuto. “Give it a rest,” he says with a small smile. “Anything to lighten all this up.” He gestures vaguely around them. They won’t have this kind of comfort tonight. They also wouldn’t have the comfort of four. That means longer watches, but less food to share, but one less to help carry supplies. Akaashi gives his head a small shake, trying to avoid Kuroo noticing. Thinking about this practically is certainly not helping. Frankly, he just doesn’t like the waiting. It makes him want to tear his hair out, anything but watch the train wreck that’s about to happen.

The smile has long faded from his lips and Kuroo has at least noticed that. “Back to worrying again, huh?” he says after a moment of silence that Akaashi wasn’t paying attention enough to notice.

“Just the usual.” He tries to sound offhand, but he doesn’t think Kuroo buys it. If only they didn’t know each other so well. He sighs.

“So what, you brighten them up while you’re stuck with all the baggage? That’s not how it works.” Kuroo lounges back and gives Akaashi a hard stare, the one where he’s not sure if he’s teasing or being completely serious. “Let me shoulder all the serious stuff for a while. You kick back and relax. Have some fun and actually joke around with Bokuto for once. That kid’s practically dying to get you out of the doom and gloom.”

No, Kuroo can’t do that now, Akaashi thinks hopelessly. Not today. He’ll have to deal with so much worse soon enough. Even still, he bites the inside of his cheek hard to keep from spilling everything out to him. He hates holding Kenma’s secret and everything else all in. He hates it so much, but he just can’t come clean to Kuroo about it. Not this time.

Again Akaashi is reminded of his terrible burden when Bokuto returns with Kenma following at a slower pace. Cautiously, he takes a seat next to Kuroo, seeming to make a conscious effort in maintaining at least a bit of space between them. Bokuto on the other hand nearly plows into Akaashi, almost falling back onto the ground.

“I told Kenma, but he wasn’t too impressed,” he informs Akaashi. “Though I’m sure he’s excited on the inside. He just doesn’t like to show it, that’s all.”

Akaashi gives Bokuto a slight roll of his eyes. “That’s because you’re too excitable, Bokuto.”

“Well, I just wanted you to know that your gesture is appreciated,” he huffs playfully, crossing his arms over his chest and trying to appear aloof. His façade breaks when he peeks one eye open to check Akaashi’s reaction and his face breaks into a mischievous smile, no doubt picked up from Kuroo.

Giving Bokuto a smile in return, Akaashi always appreciates the way he can lighten up a gloomy looking morning like this, no matter the situation. It may not fix all their problems, but it lessens the load and, at the least, makes Akaashi feel just a bit better. He turns back to finish his breakfast, overhearing Kuroo and Kenma as he does.

“You don’t look so great,” Kuroo murmurs to Kenma, while Bokuto starts on complaining about traveling in the oncoming rain in Akaashi’s other ear.

Kenma shrugs. “I just didn’t sleep well.”

With his eyebrows raised, Kuroo doesn’t look convinced, though he clearly hasn’t seen the need to be too concerned yet. “Really? You prefer the rain and the bugs and the sleeping on rocks?”

“No,” Kenma huffs, not willing to take the bait. Apparently he’s not even in the mood to go along with Kuroo’s light teasing. “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all, Kuro.”

Akaashi tenses, waiting for the truth to spill out, but it doesn’t. Kuroo tries rubbing Kenma’s arm soothingly, but when he gets no response, he moves to packing their things. Kenma stares into his can of soup, but doesn’t eat. Akaashi can’t be sure if this is worse or not. He feels cold, repressing a shiver even though Bokuto leans against him, still blabbing away about something or other.

Again, once they’ve packed, Akaashi waits for Kenma to tell about his bite and again it doesn’t happen. He stays silently behind Kuroo, doing a bit of packing, but mostly keeping an eye on him. At times, when Akaashi has his back turned, he can almost feel Kenma’s eyes moving to rest on him, the only other person in the group to know. He’s not sure if Kenma’s looks to him or not, but he can definitely feel the guilt hot on the back of his neck.

It’s already drizzling when they step outside. Inwardly, Akaashi groans, wishing for the dry protection that the office building had offered last night, the one that they are now leaving behind. He could do without the wet, humid nights under gray skies that lie ahead of them. He glances at Bokuto who has his arms spread wide and eyes closed, accepting the cool droplets gratefully. Anything to feel slightly cleaner, Akaashi figures. They’ve all just gotten used to the layer or grime that covers their skin and clothes. Maybe this is one good side to the rain. But then there’ll be mud, wet and cold clothes that won’t dry, and eventually Bokuto will complain and that will be its own headache. Akaashi will put up with it though. It’s all to get Bokuto to the Crows in the end. He promised he would and besides, Bokuto deserves to get there.

He deserves the protection and importance that the Crows will give him. Maybe not the responsibility that will come with being there, but he’ll look past that to see himself the hero. He’d like that, Akaashi’s sure of it. The hero who helped create the vaccine. Bokuto might just be happier with the Crows. With the scare of him being infected over, Daichi may treat him better, too, and Bokuto is the kind of person to forgive easily, no matter how scary it would have been locked in that house, unknowing… But whatever this university is like, Bokuto might just like it better than the idea of Tozawa.

Akaashi immediately tosses the idea from his head, scattering the drops of rain that had begun to weigh down his hair. He can’t think like that. Bokuto had been so pleased at the idea of returning to Tozawa. He hadn’t even wanted to leave. Certainly he wouldn’t change his mind. He couldn’t.

But then Akaashi considers the prospect of returning alone and the thought makes him sick.

No, one problem at a time. Bokuto wouldn’t want to stay with the Crows anyway. No matter how important he is to them, how important they’ll make him feel, all the Crows will be doing is sticking him with needles and running tests and whatever else they need from him. Bokuto won’t want to stay in a place like that. Akaashi’s just being stupid again, like back in Tozawa.

A brief instant passes and Akaashi wishes he had finished school so he could be the one to make the vaccine out of Bokuto’s immunity. His well-being would be in his own hands, just as it has this entire time. Akaashi would like that a lot. But the moment passes and he lets that thought drift away. It’s not the first time that his mind has revisited those ghosts of what if’s, especially surrounding his old university in Tokyo, but it does him no good to dwell on them.

They near the first shop Kuroo had described last night and, as much as he tries to keep on task, Akaashi is clearly distracted. It’s easy to blame it on the fact that the secret between him and Kenma rests heavy on his shoulders and it’s exhausting knowing that he can’t be the one to break the news. He just has to wait it out and his mind would rather think about less gloomier things.

Kuroo gives out instructions quietly as they sneak inside. There’s infected ins here and they’ll have to be as silent as possible. Anything to avoid a fight and drawing in even more with the noise. Kuroo tells who to get what and Akaashi forgets what he’s to gather almost as soon as the words leave Kuroo’s lips. He has to ask him to repeat it before he can head off to carry out his search. Even when he returns he finds he’s forgotten to look for soap and though he goes back to look, still turns up empty-handed. Two infected linger in the aisle he wants to search more carefully, but it’s not worth the risk of being seen.

Kuroo shakes his head at him while he tells Akaashi that there’ll probably be some in the next place. They head cautiously in that direction. It’s not far, but infected still wander the streets.

“You are really spacing out today, Akaashi,” Kuroo says, the rain keeping his words out of earshot of any infected nearby as well as Bokuto and Kenma who travel ahead. They keep a sharp eye out for any to get too close. Even with this rain, there are far too many of them in this town. “I don’t know what it is, but something’s up and if you don’t wanna tell me, fine.”

Akaashi opens his mouth to protest, but Kuroo cuts him off. “Don’t argue.” There’s a little smirk to his lips, though his eyes remain concerned. “You’re a worry-wart as is, but never this paranoid without a good reason.”

Again, he doesn’t give Akaashi the chance to defend himself, leaving him behind to catch up to the other two. Instead of allowing his thoughts to swallow him up again, Akaashi hurries to catch up with them, too.

**———**

Akaashi turns the corner of the aisle in their third stop’s convenience store to find himself face-to-face with Kenma. The boy jumps, fumbling a banged up box of band-aids in his hands. As much as he’s been both avoiding, yet itching to get his hands on him, Akaashi’s mouth goes dry and he can suddenly feel the aching chill of the rain water still clinging to his skin straight down to his bones. He rubs one of his arms roughly as his eyes narrow.

“You’re taking too long,” Akaashi growls under his breath. He prays that Kuroo and Bokuto aren’t close enough to overhear them. “It’s now or never, Kenma.”

It pains him to have to be this harsh. The color has clearly drained from his now pale cheeks. He’s been breaking out into sweats all day. Even Akaashi, who has tried not meeting Kenma’s eye, has noticed. Surely Kuroo, too, has seen the strain on his dear friend and can come up with one or two guesses as to why. He’s not dumb, but anyone can make themselves blind with strong enough denial.

Kenma opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Dejectedly, he turns his gaze down to the box clenched in his fingers.

“You have to. Now,” Akaashi continues, practically begging, but keeps his voice straight. He needs Kenma to do this. He doesn’t think he can break this kind of news to Kuroo. But no, he can’t be a coward here. He would tell Kuroo if he absolutely had tom but it’s not his place. Kenma is the one who has to do it. “Before we move on. I’m sorry, Kenma. Really. But it has to be now.”

He shivers under Kenma’s wide eyes that seem to stare through him. The boy nods and he leaves the aisle. Akaashi takes a second, hands curling into fists, tempted to bring a shelf crashing down or to tear the store apart until there’s nothing left. He allows his hands to relax before following with legs that beg him to stand still.

“Kuro,” he hears Kenma say quietly before he can turn the corner to see the rest of his group, “there’s something we need to talk about.”

Kuroo doesn’t look up at first, busy looking for the expiration dates on their gathered supplies so far. Akaashi wonders if he hadn’t heard.

“Kuro,” Kenma tries again, a bit louder this time.

Akaashi knows that there’s an infected in the back employee room, but he had blocked it in as quietly as possible as soon as he had found it. They should be safe here, at least for this conversation to pan out and the result delivered.

“What’s there to talk about?” Kuroo asks, finally looking up. “We have the whole day planned out. Don’t tell me you’re going to start worrying like Akaashi.” Kuroo’s eyes land on him in the dim and Akaashi wishes he could shrink away from them. He doesn’t know. He couldn’t even guess.

Well, he could, but Kuroo would never actually listen to those suspicions, not if it concerned Kenma. Akaashi doesn’t know Kenma well enough, but Akaashi does know that Kuroo is willing to do anything and make any sacrifice for those he cares about. More often than not, it’s a great weakness, Akaashi hates to admit.

“This is why we planned everything out so carefully last night, so we don’t have to stop and chat when there’s infected crawling over everything inch of this town. We don’t take risks where we don’t have to. Now come on, Kenma. We have one last stop to hit before we get the hell out of here.”

Akaashi sees Kenma’s shoulders raise, taking in a deep breath. He wills all the courage he can muster to the boy and encourages him silently on. Akaashi spies Bokuto peeking out of an aisle not far behind Kuroo, listening in on the conversation, too.

There’s another second before Kenma starts to speak and it sounds uncomfortably loud in the silence even as soft as his voice is. “I won’t be going to the next stop with you.”

Kuroo’s brow knits in confusion, just slightly drawn together. “That’s not part of the plan,” he says slowly, trying to understand something that Kenma is clearly not saying outright. “Besides, we stick together. We all go, or no one does.”

In a quick movement that Akaashi doesn’t even catch right away, Kenma pulls up one of his pant legs. He can’t see from behind, but he can guess how it looks. It will be much different from Bokuto’s bites that he’s traced over countless times. Like a lullaby to sleep at nights, promising that he doesn’t have to worry, that what happened before won’t happen again. But that’s a lie, too. He’s watching it all unfold right in front of him. Can he even be grateful for the security that Bokuto brings? Not when he sees the way Kuroo’s face scrunches up, still trying to understand what he’s looking at. Even if he can’t see, it should be clear what Kenma means. How many times have they seen people reveal a bite? This is hardly any different. But then it’s completely different. At least for Kuroo.

Akaashi had been closer to Kiyoko than Kuroo obviously and she was the first they’d lost to a bite in a long time. This situation is clearly different for him. This will be for him just what it was like to lose Kiyoko for Akaashi. He wishes he could look away.

Kuroo looks stunned. He takes a step away from Kenma, eyes narrowing slightly. Maybe he’s trying to see what he’s turned a blind eye to all day, trying to connect the dots. Akaashi wonders if he hasn’t already guess at least once before.

“No,” he says like he’s trying to convince them all just as much as himself, “you’re just sick, Kenma. You have a cold. We’ve been caught out in the rain and we’ve been outside for weeks. You’re not used to it, that’s all. All this traveling…you didn’t do well on the way to Tozawa, so—that’s just a scratch—you’re working yourself up over nothing.”

“I’m not stupid,” Kenma mutters. His head is bowed, but through his hair he keeps his eyes on Kuroo, watching his reaction carefully. It reminds Akaashi that Kenma had done the same thing to him the night before, asking about his past.

Akaashi wonders if the boy is thinking of bolting if Kuroo gets out of hand. Run away and deal with his bite himself. Surely Kenma cares for Kuroo just as much and would rather keep him out of it in case he did anything stupid. It’s one idea, but it would make Kuroo sick with worry. Best to end it now and give some sense of closure. That’s the best way.

“I know I was bitten,” Kenma continues. “Yesterday morning. I said I was fine but—I just didn’t want you to worry.”

“Didn’t want me to worry,” Kuroo repeats dumbly and it scares Akaashi. He can almost see the anger boiling there, just waiting for everything to piece together, slowly due to the shock, before it finally erupts.

Kenma throws Akaashi a quick look over his shoulder. “Akaashi said I didn’t have long—”

“Akaashi knew,” Kuroo growls softly, eyes shifting to Akaashi as well, but he stays silent, letting Kenma continue talking.

“—but I wanted to tell you myself, Kuro.”

Akaashi relaxes as Kuroo’s eyes slide away from him. He wonders if Kenma’s starting to feel it, if he’s started experiencing the symptoms of the virus. He knows he can’t have much longer. In the silence of the moment, Akaashi looks to Bokuto. He seemed to have grasped Kenma’s meaning immediately while Kuroo is still processing. He has slumped to the ground when Akaashi wasn’t watching, back leaning against the shelf and his eyes gazing far away.

“So that’s it. I’m infected.”

And those words get through if nothing else has. Kuroo gives a quick shake of his head before he pushes his way out of the shop, to where the clouds are low and heavy and the rain has begun to pour. Almost immediately, his hair is plastered to his head. Just as quickly, Kenma followers in pursuit. At the sudden change, Bokuto moves to a crouch, eyes on Akaashi, silently asking what to do.

Akaashi’s gaze follows after Kuroo and Kenma for a minute, watching the former yelling. He looks back to Bokuto and nods shortly before moving to the door. Bokuto gets to his feet and follows not too far behind.

As soon as he steps outside, everything becomes muffled with the sound of rainwater, like he’s entered a bubble. It’s pouring so hard he can hardly make out more than little ways in front of him. He spots Kuroo and Kenma easily enough though. They haven’t moved too far away from the shop, standing in the middle of the deserted road, and he can make out Kuroo’s shouting over the noise. Akaashi only hopes that the yelling won’t draw any attention of the infected.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Kuroo is yelling as he and Bokuto catch up.

“You keep going with them!” Kenma yells, gesturing toward Bokuto and Akaashi.

Shocked, Akaashi comes to a sudden halt nearby. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Kenma’s voice raised like that before. It makes it all much more real now that they’re finally having this conversation right now, finally telling the truth.

“When we left Tozawa, you promised we would get them to the Crows. So that’s what you need to keep doing, Kuro.”

“No!” Kuroo exclaims, pointing a finger at Kenma. “You don’t understand. Everything I’ve done—everything—has been for you. I abandoned everyone for you! So you could have a better place to live. I worked for the fucking Crows so you could eat. I dragged you clear across Japan so I could help find a cure to make the world safer for _you_! We can’t just end this here. We can’t! Maybe—”

Kenma shakes his head, cutting him off. “I’m not immune, Kuro. Even you can see that now.”

“Then I’ll go with you. I can’t let you go alone. Not after everything.”

And Kenma’s still shaking his head, but slower now. Helplessly, Akaashi watches the fight drain out of him as he faces down Kuroo. And he remembers what he told him. The one power that an infected has before turning. And Akaashi’s one weakness. A promise. He feels his heart drop in fear as he realizes what Kenma would ask. Kenma glances at him over his shoulder. He knows what’s coming and he curses himself for being honest with Kenma last night, because now he’s about to take everything.

“Please,” he says, still looking to Akaashi, and he’s barely heard over the rain.

Akaashi knows exactly what he’s asking for and he can see the conviction on Kuroo’s face as well and no, no, this wasn’t supposed to go this way. Kenma was supposed to tell Kuroo and they were supposed to make a decision and then they were supposed to move on. That was all they could do. But now Kenma is afraid and he can’t make the decision Akaashi needs him to. Now Kuroo is going to do something stupid. The one thing Akaashi had hoped to prevent. He’d hoped Kenma would want to prevent that, too.

“Kuroo,” he starts gently, but loud enough to be heard, hoping that not all is lost, “you know how this needs to end.”

“No, Akaashi, this doesn’t need to end the way it always does.” Kuroo locks eyes with him, squinting through the downpour. “I need to do this. I need to go with Kenma now.”

He finds anger suddenly in his stomach, as if all of Kuroo’s from earlier has shifted to him. Kuroo can’t be serious right now. “And what about Bokuto?” He throws a wild wave behind him in Bokuto’s general direction. “He’s our only hope for a cure! To save this problem from happening in the future. You promised!”

“Didn’t you just hear what I said?” Kuroo asks through gritted teeth. His face is only inches away from Akaashi’s and he wonders when they had gotten so close. “I’ve done everything for him. Without Kenma—well—there’s just no point in a cure, is there?”

Before he can even think of it, Akaashi watches his fist smash square into Kuroo’s jaw. His fist throbs and he clutches it in his other hand, bent slightly as he faces off with Kuroo again who’s also leaning over, grabbing his jaw. This is all different from when Kuroo wanted to stay behind with Kiyoko.

Before Kuroo can react to being punched, Akaashi lunges forward, reaching out to grab Kuroo’s elbow and, with a harsh pull, yanks him back. “I won’t let you walk away from us again, Kuroo,” he says quietly, voice shaking. “I’m grateful for what you did last time, it was dangerous, but this—this is just suicide. I can’t let you do it.”

“You’re the only one who’d understand.” Kuroo wrenches his arm away and squares off with Akaashi. “I thought you at least would get it.” His words nearly catch in his throat and it’s hard to watch the way his face almost seems to crumple in front of them. “No,” and suddenly his face is straight again, eyes hard, “you were given a choice, so why can’t you give us the same.”

“Don’t compare this to what I went through,” he says darkly, jerking Kuroo roughly by the shoulder and hanging on, hoping he doesn’t pull away again. Anything to keep hold of him. He’s afraid if he lets go he’ll lose him to the rain.

“So you’re saying Konoha getting bit is different than Kenma?” Kuroo growls.

Akaashi pushes Kuroo away, thoughts forgotten, and too angry again to care. For a second, he doesn’t care if Kuroo goes. Reminding him of Konoha… “No, I’m saying they’re completely different.”

“I don’t need your permission, Akaashi. I’ll just go.”

Whipping his head to the side, Akaashi finds Kenma. He needs to talk to someone who’ll understand. Now, before it’s too late. “Talk some sense into him. You’re the only one he’ll listen to. You have to decide this because apparently he can’t.” But he knows he won’t. He’s fighting a losing battle. He saw the way Kenma had looked at him. He’s not ready to let go, even though he needs to be.

“Don’t listen to him, Kenma. We’re going together.”

There’s a moment of silence where Kenma looks between the two, but he keeps his mouth shut. Akaashi knows part of Kenma wants to go off with Kuroo to wait this out. But that’s just stupid. He has to know that, Kenma’s smart. They should bother see that. His fate might already be decided, but he doesn’t have to drag Kuroo down with him. It he cares for him at all, this has to be the decision to make. Someone has to be selfless in this situation and apparently it can’t be Akaashi. No one’s listening to reason. Kuroo or Kenma have to reach this on their own.

“Iwaizumi told me it was either him or Konoha when we found out,” Akaashi says, trying to be calmer now, but his voice still trembles. “We didn’t know anything about the bites back then. We were on our own and afraid and Iwaizumi was the only one thinking clearly. He could put two and two together. He knew what we needed to do. Konoha was the same. I would have given anything in that moment to go off with him and wait it out, but then he said he wanted it, too. So I did it.”

Kuroo gazes at Akaashi silently, his eyes sad. He’s heard this story before, all of it, in precise detail, as best as Akaashi can remember and sometimes it’s all to clear.

“Look, I get it. The outbreak can’t compare to this. You’re right, but this is just something I need to do, okay, Akaashi? And you need to let me.”

Straightening at his tone, Akaashi gazes upon his best friend. “There won’t be any promises of meeting up again.”

“No.” Kuroo shakes his head. “I suppose there won’t.” He takes a deep breath. “But this is the end of the line for us and I suggest you two get out of this town while you still can.”

Akaashi wants to punch him in the face again. He’s not really angry, not like he was, but he feels like it would be one last ditch effort to knock Kuroo to his senses. Something squeezes his free hand and he realizes that at some point Bokuto had grabbed his hand. He feels how numb the tips of his fingers are. Biting his lip hard, he squeezes back as best as he can to let Bokuto know he’s alright. He’s not, but maybe he can pass off some kind of semblance.

Kuroo tucks Kenma gently under his arm, murmuring some kind of reassurance in his ear that’s lost to the rain. Akaashi nearly chokes watching them. He follows as they back away, but only to the end of Bokuto’s reach. He clings on tightly, but stares after Kuroo.

“You won’t make it out of the town. There’s too many!” he calls weakly.

Kuroo smiles back at him and he slides his back pack off his shoulders. “We probably won’t need both of these, so here.” He tosses it partway across to them. “Hang onto my supplies and get out of here while you can. Can’t you hear them?”

And Akaashi does. Under the pattering of rain he hears the moans and crying. Infected are nearby and are only getting closer. He can’t let them get surrounded.

“And I know I don’t need to say this, Akashi, but you keep Bokuto safe.”

He was supposed to keep them all safe, Akaashi thinks. He must be killing Bokuto’s hand, but he doesn’t say anything, just clings onto it.

They slowly move apart from each other as if they can’t just turn and walk away. Akaashi squints through the rain, trying to make them out as the rain blurs them.

Akaashi breathes hard when they’ve finally disappeared from view. The rain fills his ears and so does the sound of the infected. He has to get them out of here. He has to—but it’s just him and Bokuto.

He had been right. He had been right all along. Iwaizumi should’ve done this, but then would he be where Kenma is right now? Bokuto along with him? But maybe not. Maybe they would have made it. Or maybe if Iwaizumi had joined them—no, not that either. Maybe he would wind up dead as well, causing Akaashi to lose everything in one fell swipe. No, he should have never allowed Kuroo and Kenma to come along in the first place. He had known how dangerous this would be. That’s why he hadn’t wanted to do it, not for his own safety, but for Bokuto’s. He remembers the relief that he had felt when Kuroo promised to come. It makes him sick now. But it was what Kenma wanted—what Kuroo wanted, too. Isn’t it his duty then to allow them their last wish? Gritting his teeth he hangs onto Bokuto’s hand even tighter, if possible.

They need to get out of here. Akaashi fills himself with that thought. Out of this fucking town and away from all its fucking infected. This town has always been damned, it seems, and so it remains. They never should have come here. Akaashi pulls Bokuto in the opposite direction that Kuroo had lead Kenma and meekly he trails behind. He follows the signs to get them back on track. Give them a day or so and finally they’ll be heading north.

But even as he tries to keep his mind centered on that one thought, there’s still one more that keeps coming to him, as much as he tires to push it away.

Back in Tozawa, Bokuto had been right. Akaashi didn’t have to worry about losing him, but he had just lost everything else he had left. That was the one thing he had been trying to prevent all along. And he had failed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been reading, especially to those leaving kudos and comments. I always love hearing your thoughts! I'm glad that this one was able to come up sooner than last time. Maybe if I could stop working every weekend... But I'm enjoying writing this so much and I'm looking forward to what will come. I hope you guys are, too!
> 
> Come yell at me on my tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)  
> I probably deserve it after this chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ohdki8630ZA)


	11. Trade Mistakes

He’s not sure how long they’ve been going, but it’s just been nonstop rain the entire time. Akaashi can’t even feel the drops on his skin anymore, whether he’s gone numb from the constant downpour or everything that’s happened, he’s not sure. All he knows is that everything is soaked through, that in one hand he grasps Kuroo’s backpack and in the other Bokuto’s hand. He hasn’t let go since they started moving.

Akaashi had led them all the way out of town and back onto the road. Ever since, it’s been Bokuto who has taken the lead. He keeps throwing looks over his shoulder at Akaashi to be sure that he still follows. It would be easy to get separated and lost in this rain. They had seen how easy it is to lose each other just two nights ago. It feels much longer than that. All those infected had been the cause of everything else that had followed and Akaashi wishes that they could have done something—anything—to prevent that. Maybe, if things had been different, they would already be traveling north and there would still be four of them.

He can’t even gather the strength to push those thoughts away. In any normal case, it would be easy to send negative thoughts to the back of his mind, to push on like normal. Like maybe they’d never reach the Crows, or maybe they would, but the Crows wouldn’t be there anymore. Akaashi had those thoughts every day since setting out. They’re nothing new, but now, he lets them come and cram inside his head, crying out for each worry to be heard. So he wallows in his grief for Kuroo and how badly he had screwed up and allows Bokuto to lead the way for now.

Somewhere along the way, the daylight fades, though there’s no sign of the setting sun through the thick clouds. The light just simply goes away, leaving the oncoming night to swallow them up. For once, it strikes the deepest kind of fear in Akaashi’s chest, one he can’t ignore like usual. They’re alone and wet and soon it’ll be too dark to see. They could try setting up a camp in this cloudy twilight, but what if they’re attacked again? If the rain doesn’t let up through the night, they’ll never hear the infected coming.

While Akaashi is too distracted by his worries, Bokuto makes the decision for them. He pulls Akaashi off the road and into the woods. This time, they only barely enter the trees before he stops. He plants his hands on Akaashi’s shoulder and looks him in the eyes, holding it for the first time all day.

“Stay here,” he says and doesn’t look away until Akaashi gives him a passable nod and he believes that Akaashi really will stay put.

Akaashi’s not one to wonder anyway, so he does as he’s told. He stands dripping under the trees and watches rainwater pour off of the leaves and puddle in the ground around his feet. Realizing how cold he suddenly is, he shivers. He can feel the dampness sinking in from everywhere and all he wants is to be dry. He thinks he would do just about anything for a dry night.

It doesn’t take long for Bokuto to return. He pulls his blanket out of his backpack and, before it can get completely soaked, throws it up into the branches, making sure it spreads out enough to offer some cover from the rain. It’s one with a tarp-like side to it and hopefully it will keep the rain off them for even just part of the night. Then, he gently pulls Akaashi to the ground with him to sit. He takes food out and begins to eat, every other bite he offers to Akaashi who only turns his head away. Bokuto doesn’t stop trying and Akaashi doesn’t stop declining, the thought of eating only makes Akaashi sick.

“It’s okay,” Bokuto murmurs to him after being rejected once again. “If you’re not hungry, you’re not hungry. Don’t force yourself, Akaashi.”

And he keeps talking quietly even with no response. Sometimes it’s bright and happy as ever in contrast to the rain, but other times it shakes and falls silent for a moment until he picks back up.

“Maybe we’ll dry off a bit and be able to get some sleep, huh?”

Akaashi seriously doubts he could sleep.

“And I don’t know about you, but my butt is severely soaked through. It’s been raining forever.”

He’s quiet for a little, shifting around here and there, making sure he’s pressed up firmly against Akaashi’s side. It’s warm despite the cool rain.

The darkness settles in quicker than expected. For a few minutes, they can’t see, only hear the rain pounding and each other’s breathing if they listened hard enough.

“Maybe we could use a flashlight,” Bokuto suggests. “I bet that’ll lighten things up for us.” And he digs through his pack until the light dimly illuminates the trees around them and the road that is still in sight.

The obscure shadows make Akaashi’s skin crawl, but he’d much rather be able to see around them again, even if every shadow seems like something could be lurking there.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Bokuto says, speaking up again. “Don’t waste the batteries. What if we really need them in the future? Well, I think it’s pretty important now. We can’t hear so we might as well be able to see. So if anything—”

His voice cuts off and Akaashi glances over at him. Bokuto’s hand shakes on the flashlight and his eyes scan the trees nervously. It takes a second, but when he finds Akaashi watching him, his smile comes back. He can’t fake the nervousness still lingering in this eyes though.

“Don’t worry, I can keep a good eye out. You should try and get some sleep, Akaashi.”

But he doesn’t. Neither of them do. They sit out the longest night—probably the longest that Akaashi can remember in a very long time—pressed shoulder to shoulder. After that, Bokuto doesn’t say much. His murmuring grows even quieter until he’s just talking to himself and Akaashi can’t make out his words. Still, his voice is much better to focus on than the endless rain. Eventually, the blanket falls on them from the tree branches, having grown too heavy collecting water. It drenches them again, though everything had still been quite damp, and provides quite a nasty shock with both of them already on edge. Bokuto hurries to move it off them and several times he tries to get it propped back up for it to only come slipping back down.

“Sorry, sorry!” he says after the fourth time when it falls back down on Akaashi’s head. Instead of trying once more, he drapes it around their shoulders and sits back down.

They stay like that until the rains slow and dawn approaches in the sky. They watch it through the thin layer of tree branches. While the sky remains clouded, the rain only drizzles lightly, promising a slightly better day with the weather. There’s no promises for the night, but this will be much better to travel through than yesterday’s downpour.

With the oncoming morning, Akaashi can feel that something has shifted. He wouldn’t say that the shock has gone, but it’s been encased in icy numbness that allows him to get to his feet without shaking and pull Bokuto up as well. It allows him to take the lead for the day, setting the pace. With a brief look at the map, he knows that it’s well within reason for them to reach the connecting road that will take them north. At last. That thought drives him with new determination. Maybe that’s what ultimately cuts through his grief and the numbness that festers around it.

After waiting for this moment for over a week, the time finally comes for them to change direction in the afternoon. It’s uneventful after having such a buildup leading up to it.

“North at last,” he says, breaking the silence that had settled over them all day. It hadn’t been a chilled silence, just one where neither really knew what to say. “One step closer to the Crows.”

Bokuto nods, casting Akaashi a smile, but the excitement is not as prominent in his eyes. Instead, they are clouded with worry. Akaashi sees this, but insists on seeing it as only more grief. They just need to keep going, keep pushing all that down, and soon everything will be fine. Give it a week or so, and things will be just like they were before Tozawa.

They travel another couple of hours before Bokuto stops him with a light tug on his sleeve. “Do you think it’d be okay to stop for lunch?”

Akaashi hears Bokuto’s stomach growl, but instead of chuckling good naturedly like he normally would, he’s concerned with how he had managed to forget lunch. He nods dumbly, and they sit on guardrails to go through their packs. Akaashi stares at his for a moment, feeling not trace of hunger inside. Just like last night, he doesn’t think he could manage to stomach much. In the end, he eats a few bites anyway, just to keeps Bokuto’s concerned eyes off of him.

They start out again in the rain. The drizzling does make it easier, but Akaashi feels like if it doesn’t stop soon, his entire body will turn into one giant prune. The tips of his fingers already have.

The weather makes it seems as if the summer heat is slowly wearing out and fading away. It’s too soon for a chillier air to settle in, but ever since the outbreak the weather can be just as unpredictable as everything else. As if more than the virus has altered the world around them. Not even the afternoon sun, hiding behind rainclouds, provides much warmth. There’s still the faint humidity, but the droplets splattering their skin and soaking their clothes are icy, belonging more to autumn than summer.

When night falls, they make camp earlier than the previous night, using as much sunlight as possible in order to settle in. There isn’t much prep to do though. The rains have ruined any chance of fire, but they do set up fallen branches around the area just in case, though Akaashi’s sure they won’t do much. Still, with the light rain, there’s hope that they might have a chance of hearing something approaching in the night. Akaashi hopes any heavier rains will hold off. Before the light becomes too dim to see, Akaashi hangs the blanket up, being sure that it’s secure and won’t fall like last time. With less rain, it might actually provide some useful cover for tonight.

“I’ll take first watch tonight,” Akaashi tells Bokuto once they’re sitting amongst the wet leaves and dirt. “I’ll wake you when it’s your turn. You should rest.”

“I could say the same about you,” Bokuto says around a yawn, but he’s been falling behind all day. Akaashi has no doubt that his weariness will put him to sleep even despite the less desirable environment.

Akaashi sits down up against a tree, facing the road, the three packs sit to his left while Bokuto is on his right. He lays down on his side and settles his head in Akaashi’s lap. Glancing upward quickly, he checks to be sure it’s alright, but Akaashi doesn’t say anything. His eyes close and Akaashi can tell by how his body grows heavier against him that Bokuto is asleep within minutes.

Bokuto doesn’t wake until the sun glows pink and low in the sky. It looks like they just might get a clear day, if a bit overcast. Akaashi pretends to miss Bokuto’s grumpy stare as he packs up their things, but when he turns back to the road, he can’t ignore it any longer. Bokuto blocks his path.

“You let me sleep through the whole night,” he complains and Akaashi admits, he’d never think he’d hear that one out of Bokuto’s mouth.

Shrugging it off, he makes to go around Bokuto. “You seemed very tired last night. I wasn’t, so I took the whole watch.” He looks over his shoulder at Bokuto who stubbornly has still refused to move. “If it makes you happy, it won’t happen again.”

But it does. They spend two more nights outside with varying degrees of rain. The nights turn as chilly as the rain and the days are spent walking as they keep heading north. They don’t take out the map to keep it from getting wet. Akaashi knows the next road to take, but he still wishes he knew how far away they are. He keeps taking the nights’ watches. Refusing to wake Bokuto up; however, to keep him from getting too angry, he wakes him up in the dark hour before dawn. At first he’s pleased and he sits up to keep lookout like a watchful owl in the night. Akaashi pretends to sleep at his side, closing his eyes for the last hour, but he clearly notices that Bokuto’s ticked off when he sees how fast the sunrises. Luckily for Akaashi, he keeps it to himself, only casting dark looks Akaashi’s way, but that merely lasts the morning. It doesn’t escape Akaashi’s notice that once again he’s lucky for Bokuto being quick to forgive.

Finally, after their fourth night since losing Kuroo, Bokuto puts his foot down.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” he says. The rain pours around them today and he has to raise his voice to be heard. “No more rain, no more camping out. Can we please find someplace to stay in tonight, Akaashi?”

Akaashi’s more surprised than anything else. He had been expecting Bokuto to lose patience with him before he did the rain. Though Akaashi doesn’t want to go into a town, even more so now than before, he has grown sick of the rain, too. Also, he can’t lie to himself saying that it’s still as dangerous as before. Surely it would be find with just the two of them. At least, it would be easier sneaking into a town for a night with just two instead of four.

After thinking it through. He nods. “Okay, Bokuto.”

They take the next exit into town. The rain makes them desperate, so they choose the first apartment they stumble upon, giving it a quick onceover, before securing it.

“Hey look,” Bokuto starts once they’ve finished moving a set of drawers in front of the door, his voice serious, “we should talk.”

“About what?” Akaashi asks, feigning ignorance. He stops in front of the room he was about to enter to turn and face Bokuto. “Do you really want to sit down with the map right now? I don’t. You should go eat, Bokuto, and get some sleep, too.”

Bokuto shakes his head. “No, not that. You’ve been so busy charging forward that we really haven’t talked. I’m grateful you want to get me to the Crows—and fast, too—but we need to stop for a minute.”

“If you want to talk about what happened with Kuroo, then talk. I’ll listen, but I’m perfectly fine. Remember, this kind of thing has happened to me plenty of times before. I’m used to it.”

“But—” Bokuto seems completely at a loss for words “—that’s not the kind of thing you can get used to.”

“I have.”

“You said so yourself, Akaashi. Kuroo’s experience then doesn’t compare to yours with Konoha.”

What’s with Bokuto’s constant remembering of that name? Akaashi wonders bitterly. He wishes he had never brought up Konoha’s name, even in passing. Bokuto has no idea who he’s talking about, yet he keeps throwing the name around.

“That means that each time something like that happens, it’s—it’s completely different!” Bokuto sighs frustrated and looks away. “Kuroo was your best friend, wasn’t he?”

Akaashi crosses his arms defensively over his chest. “Yes, and Kiyoko was my sister.” He pauses, sniffing a bit at a runny nose. He hopes he hasn’t caught a cold from all the rain. “You don’t understand, Bokuto. These days, it’s different. A lot of people get infected and a lot of people die, whether you know them or not. The best thing to do is to learn to move on.”

“But you’re not moving on,” he insists. “You keep pushing things down—I know you.” At Akaashi’s doubtful look and opening mouth to protest, he hastily presses on. “You may think that I don’t, but I do! We’ve traveled together for months now and, like you said, it’s different these days. Even spending a week with a person, you really get to know them. Obviously I would know.”

“Fine,” Akaashi says bitterly. “I’m not okay, Bokuto. Happy? It’s not great what happened back there with Kuroo and Kenma. It sucks. I wish it hadn’t turned out the way it did. But you have to move on and you know what? In order to do that, you have to push it away. We have to keep heading north, so it gets pushed away. I have to get you to the Crows, so it gets pushed away again. And you keep pushing it away until it doesn’t bug you anymore.”

“But Konoha still bugs you.”

It’s not phrased like a question, but it’s not issued as a challenge either. It’s what makes Akaashi angry though, angry enough to miss the sad look in Bokuto’s eyes. How dare he keep bringing him up. It’s almost like he wants to set Akaashi off or something.

No, he’s not angry. He was though, for just a second. Really, really angry. But the emotion slips from his fingers and he’s left standing there soaked with only his exhaustion resting on his shoulders.

He casts Bokuto a tired look. “I know you think you can understand what I’m feeling, but please, Bokuto, let me be alone.”

Those sad, pleading eyes lower as he worries his bottom lip. His hand half extends, so close to Akaashi’s own, but freezes, not touching. “Alright, Akaashi,” he relents in a quiet voice and Akaashi wants to give him a grateful smile at least, an apology if nothing else. He tries to, but his lips are numb and his bones feel weary. He feels once he lays down, he won’t ever get back up.

Akaashi disappears into the room, closing the door softly behind him. Though it still feels like slamming it in Bokuto’s face, he doesn’t have the energy to make much more of an effort to soften the blow. Bokuto’s constant hovering and clinging over the past—he can’t remember how long now—has worn him down along with his exhaustion. He knows he means well and it’s only his worried about him, but Akaashi can’t think much on it now. He just needs to be alone.

He’s already crashed and burned before and this feels like it’s happening all over again, like an unhealthy habit starting up all over again. Wash, rinse, repeat. Only this time it’s going to take much more to pull himself out, he thinks. So he decides to give up and sink into it for once, at least just for now. The storms outside mean they won’t be moving for a while. Lightning flashes, lighting up his room. At least this cramped apartment gives them some shelter—a roof over their heads, someplace dry. He’ll give into this sad, helpless feeling that’s washing over him now and crawl out later after he’s rested with more energy to at least stand.

He falls face first on the bed, an old lumpy mattress with its sheets still in disarray. Akaashi doesn’t care. It’s more forgiving than the floor, and his conscience. He could sleep for days. He hears something muffled beyond the closed door. It could be Bokuto settling down as well on the other side, but he doesn’t bother to make much more sense of it than that. His eyes are already drifting closed.

**———**

Two and a half days go by after that and not a second escapes Akaashi’s notice. Following his first brief nap, he’s back to wakefulness and even when he does feel drowsiness dragging him down, he shakes it off.

In the mornings, he sits himself in the middle of the bed, cross-legged, and thinks. Those what if thoughts are back to running his brain ragged. If he could just shut them off, he would, but he can’t, so he just sits and listens to each and every one, playing them out to their fullest. What if he hadn’t gotten separated from them back when the infected first found them in the forest? What if they hadn’t found them at all? Maybe he could have made sure to grab hold of everyone so that they would be sure to stick together. Other scenarios like these play out over and over. He even gets to the point of hiding Kenma’s secret. What if he hadn’t kept it from Kuroo? What if he had told him as soon as he had found out? Would learning of Kenma’s bite differently or at a different time, different place, have changed his mind? Akaashi’s not so sure, but that doesn’t stop his mind from coming up with what he would have said differently. He ponders the butterfly effect, wondering if one small thing were changed if it would also change the entire outcome. He sees both good and bad endings with that train of thought, so it’s quickly abandoned.

In the afternoons, he tries to eat a little, maybe a bite or so. It all tastes horrible to him, or like nothing at all, completely tasteless, and it takes swallowing a couple of times to finally get it down. Even then it’s hard without gagging. He just can’t seem to find his appetite, though he still recognizes the importance of eating.

After trying to eat, he paces. Filled with restlessness, he moves about the room like a caged animal, although he has the option to leave at any point. He can barely keep himself sitting in the morning, trying to bring some kind of organization to his thoughts. On the second day, it’s not even afternoon before he’s up and moving about again.

His pacing continues late into the night and he’s not exactly silent. The walls are paper thing and Bokuto, who leaves him alone during the first day, hears him moving about in the night. His voice is heavy with sleep when he calls through the door and it’s clear that he came with a false sense of hopefulness that Akaashi was feeling better.

“Akaashi? Are you still up?”

Akaashi sighs and halts his pacing. “Yes, Bokuto. I’m sorry I woke you. Please go back to sleep.”

There’s a pause before Bokuto speaks again. “Alright,” he says, resigned. “Just try and get some sleep, okay?”

A second passes and Akaashi knows that Bokuto waits for a reply, but he’s not sure exactly what to say. Agreeing that he would sleep sounds like he’s lying, but it would make Bokuto feel better and probably sleep better as well. But before he can decide on saying anything at all, he hears Bokuto’s shuffled steps move farther away down the hall.

Because he feels like it would please Bokuto, Akaashi does lay down on the bed. Sleep seems miles away and he’s wide-awake. Squeezing his eyes closed, Akaashi waits for sleep to come, tossing and turning while he does. The pressure of reality too heavy and slowly crushing him where he lies on the bed, the bad mattress forming knots in his back and neck though he does nothing to relieve them. He wants to get up and expend this energy he feels within him, but he wills sleep to come anyway, thinking of how happy Bokuto would be if he were to get some rest at last.

**———**

The next morning, he hears Bokuto’s voice again. It wakes him from a slight doze that he had fallen into about an hour previously, the most sleep he’s gotten all night.

“Akaashi!” he calls from somewhere down the hall. His hurried footsteps tell that he’s coming closer. “You won’t believe what I found. Soap!” He knocks lightly on the door, but doesn’t open it. “I mean, it’s not much—not even half a bar, about a quarter really—but enough for us to wash up if the water’s on.”

“No thanks, Bokuto.”

“C’mon, Akaashi! I’ll even let you go first.”

“I’m fine. You go ahead.”

Though Bokuto insists and even verges on arguing, Akaashi doesn’t have to do much to win the discussion. He just closes his eyes and succeeds in dozing off again. On accident, of course—he doesn’t really want to tune Bokuto out, he’s just too exhausted to argue or even hold much of a conversation. When he wakes again, it’s only a couple hours later, nearly afternoon. In any normal scenario, Akaashi would have killed for a proper shower, but he sees nothing needing a reward such as soap.

After inadvertently giving Bokuto the silent treatment, Akaashi expects another quiet day with Bokuto being moody and giving him the cold shoulder. He continues to be sucked into his thoughts and when he feels like he can’t lie still another moment more, he gets up to resume last night’s pacing, thoughts following on his heels. While he had fallen asleep in the middle of talking to Bokuto about soap, it’s not as easy to escape thoughts of mistakes and failures and the dead.

However, after an hour of being awake and going through his new routine, a knock sounds on the door, sounding loud and clear in the silence and nearly making Akaashi jump out of his skin. He waits a second before answering.

“Bokuto?” he asks almost hesitantly.

“Just seeing how you’re doing,” Bokuto’s voice comes from behind the door. It’s a little nervous sounding, as if grasping for words to say. Akaashi can imagine him thinking up questions as an excuse to check on him. He huffs out a sigh that Bokuto can’t hear.

“Thank you, Bokuto. I’m fine.”

“Oh,” Bokuto replies. “Okay. Make sure to eat lunch.”

There’s another pause and Akaashi knows that Bokuto’s still standing at the door. He gives it a second before he goes back to his pacing, choosing to ignore Bokuto. After a minute of so, Akaashi hears him leave.

Bokuto makes several more of these interruptions throughout the day. Each time he asks random little questions that hardly seem important or questions that Bokuto should be able to answer himself. He makes reports on the house, the weather, whatever’s on his mind. Everything’s been picked clean, Akaashi. There’s some rotting bananas in the fridge. Should I toss them out? Don’t want the place to smell while we’re here. Do you have enough to eat, Akaashi? No electricity. Oh, and there’s no water. But plenty from the rain!

Akaashi doesn’t get angry though. He’d find it endearing if it weren’t for the way he feels like he’s suffocating under Bokuto’s constant hovering, even if it’s only from beyond the other side of the door. He appreciates Bokuto checking up on him, but he just wants to be alone, for however long that will take. Soon, he hopes, he’ll get them back on the road and back on track to meet the Crows.

Bokuto allows Akaashi to push him away. Despite checking in on him every so often, he waits patiently. He doesn’t mind that it’s taking Akaashi a while to recover from what had happened. He takes inventory on their stuff, over and over, until he has Kuroo’s pack—left out in the hall by Akaashi when they had first come—and his own pack memorized. The only thing that changes is that their food supply is going down and this apartment has nothing to replenish it with. He’s worried if Akaashi isn’t ready to leave soon that they’ll run out of food.

**———**

Another day goes by before Akaashi’s routine is broken. It’s around evening time when Bokuto pays him another visit, but, for the first time, Bokuto doesn’t bother knocking, he comes straight in. It’s surprising enough to catch Akaashi off guard.

“Alright, Akaashi,” Bokuto says, planting his hands firmly on his hips, “it’s time to get some work done.”

Akaashi looks up and opens his mouth to ask Bokuto what work he’s referring to, but Bokuto cuts him off, holding up a hand.

“Don’t say anything.” He looks Akaashi up and down. “You look horrible.”

Frowning, Akaashi says, “You don’t have to tell me.”

“No, seriously, like shit.”

Akaashi’s eyes narrow slightly and he crosses his arms over his chest. He’s slightly offended, but he can hear Bokuto’s tone. It’s a mix of his usual lightheartedness but there’s also anger hidden there that Akaashi can’t ignore. It’s enough to keep him from arguing back.

Bokuto nods to the bed. “Sit down,” he instructs and, after a moment of eying him up, Akaashi complies. Bokuto comes to sit next to him, cross-legged. He pulls off his backpack that Akaashi hadn’t realized he’d been wearing over one shoulder and settles it in his lap. He hands Akaashi a can of chunky soup. “It’s about time we have dinner together and you look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

Akaashi watches as Bokuto pulls the tab to open his can before looking over at Akaashi.

“Need help?” he asks, looking pointedly between the soup in Akaashi’s hands and his face.

Akaashi’s fingers tighten over it defensively. Again, he’d be offended, but Bokuto’s offer of help is as genuine as ever. “No, thanks,” he mutters, staring into his lap as he opens the can.

Bokuto grins at him and clinks their cans together before Akaashi can start eating. “Cheers!” he says. They fold the lids into makeshift spoons and start to eat.

The silence is heavy at first. Bokuto tucks into his meal quickly, leaving hardly enough time for breathing let alone conversation. Akaashi feels like each bite is a battle to get down. Is it possible to make eating even more awkward by doing it in front of Bokuto? He decides to try not to think about it too much. It helps a little.

“The rain’s been letting up a little today,” Bokuto says with a full mouth when his eating starts to slow enough for him to talk.

Akaashi nods along, but doesn’t say anything. He’s getting better at forcing the soup down. He doesn’t want to risk choking by trying to talk. Instead, he lifts the can to his lips to sip at the broth.

“Maybe tomorrow it’ll stop completely. That’ll mean good traveling weather, right?”

He ends up choking a little, something going down the wrong pipe or other and he coughs.

Bokuto quickly tries to remedy the situation. “Or maybe not tomorrow, but the next day could work. Whenever you’re ready.” He gives a firm pat on Akaashi’s back.

They continue on like this. Bokuto’s words turn to talk about nothing, but Akaashi is grateful for it, deep down. He’s glad to be in his company again, listening to him ramble on. It makes his eyes heavy, exhausting hitting him hard from everything that’s happened on top of the poor sleep he’s been getting. At some point, he realizes the can of soup is no longer in his hands and his head is leaning on Bokuto’s shoulder while he still carries on talking as if nothing’s changed.

“And then I nearly freaked, Akaashi. I could’ve sworn it was a mouse—I don’t know what I’d do if I found one in here—but it wasn’t! It was just some old feather duster hiding in the closet. Someone clearly didn’t clean up this place before they left.”

“I don’t think cleaning was on their mind,” Akaashi mumbles sleepily before yawning.

Bokuto laughs and falls back on the bed, taking Akaashi with him. They’re not even fully on the bed, but Bokuto’s arm is trapped beneath him and the other one comes curling around his waist. He’s warm and it makes Akaashi even sleepier.

“Rude,” he mutters under his breath as he nudges closer, resting his head against Bokuto’s chest. He feels Bokuto’s nose nuzzling into his hair and a part of him that’s very far away cringes at how bad he must smell, but Akaashi can’t find it in him to care in the moment. He’s too tired.

Before he even sees the sun set through the window, they’re both asleep.

**———**

Akaashi manages to sleep most of the night away before he wakes. It’s just before dawn, when it’s still dark outside and, normally in the summer, the birds would be just starting to chirp. It used to be annoying, when Akaashi would give anything to sleep until noon on a summer’s day, but now all he really thinks is how he misses hearing the birdsong. He hardly hears birds much these days.

He thinks a nightmare might have woken him, but he can’t remember. He feels his heart still pounding away and he could guess what it might have been about, but he doesn’t bother. He stays curled in Bokuto’s arms, drinking in his body heat, smelling the faint scent of soap that he’d used the other day. In the first time in—he doesn’t actually remember how long he’s made this room his prison—he feels like he can relax. Though Bokuto sleep on next to him, Akaashi can feel the tension leaving his body. He keeps his forehead pressed against Bokuto’s chest, feeling the solid thump of his heart, and remains that way. It seems to last forever, but only because Akaashi begs it to.

He clings to every second and tries not to think how this will be broken soon, but he doesn’t feel so alone now. He doubts anything in the world could get him to push Bokuto away now.

Bokuto’s voice speaks up just as dawn’s pink light touches the opposite wall. Akaashi raises his eyes to see it lighting the space above the covered window. He watches this happen because he’s been dreading the oncoming dawn, when Bokuto will have to get up and leave him because Akaashi’s just not sure if he can follow him out of this room yet. His heart sinks just a little when he starts to see that light, but Bokuto’s voice rumbles comfortingly in his chest. If only his words brought the same comfort.

“Will you tell me how this all happened, Akaashi?” he asks and his voice hesitates. “About everything that happened to Kuroo?” He pauses again, as if unsure. “And to you.”

These questions are a long time coming. Akaashi knows this and he knows that Bokuto feels him flinch in his arms. They tighten around him protectively. Is now the right time though?

His thoughts run quickly through his head, but before he’s ready to respond, Bokuto is already opening his mouth to take back his question. Akaashi knows he deserves these answers. He had gotten close to Kuroo and Kenma as well. Akaashi shouldn’t forget that. Before he can fall victim to worse thoughts, he launches off.. It’s almost a relief now just to start talking. Bokuto needs to hear this story almost as much as Akaashi needs to tell it.

“When the outbreak happened, Kuroo was with some buddies of his. They were out in the street when the news of it spread across the country. Towns and cities were already starting to close down.”

“How’d they know where to go?” Bokuto whispers, barely loud enough to interrupt.

“Kuroo was really smart, so were his buddies. They all went to university together, but they were hanging out that night and it must’ve been hard to be caught right in the middle of it.”

“Yeah,” Bokuto agrees just as softly as before and when Akaashi realizes he’s not going to say anything else, he pushes on.

“Eventually, they all made it to Shizuoka, could barely afford the entry documents and passports. Plus, since they were outsiders, they landed in District C, the worst of the three zones. It was the same for me when I arrived.”

“How’d you get out? I’ve always been with Daichi and he’s in good with the Crows so—”

“So Daichi probably has a good hiding spot for himself in A.”

“Well, no, he had us staying in B—”

“But he really lived in A, Bokuto. That’s where he did his business at least. He took Kiyoko and Kuroo there, remember?”

Bokuto nods and stays quiet, waiting for Akaashi to continue.

“Anyway, you had to work your way in order to pay up into a better district. That’s what I did, but I also had help. I new a guy who found me a discounted, and already cheap, apartment. It was a lot harder for Kuroo and with his group—there was no way. It would have taken years to afford to get out.

“And then that hard winter hit. There was hardly enough rations to go around and gangs were popping up, getting into no good. Some of Kuroo’s group got involved with some of that. On top of all that, people were dying of diseases other than the outbreak virus. District C was the worst in the city. It was even quarantined for a time, nobody allowed in or out. One by one, Kuroo lost his group. I know how hard he worked for them. He didn’t have to tell me. I mean, you do anything for your group. They’re like your family—and you know he went as low as to work for the Crows, which wasn’t a place people wanted to be. The Crows were wanted and executed in streets—it was dangerous to be associated with them. But now I see he was doing what he had to for Kenma, even though the rest of his group was barely getting by.”

“They all died then, didn’t they?” Bokuto asks.

Akaashi nods against his chest. “Nearly all of them,” he says. “Yamamoto still lives in C. I’ve met him a few times, but as soon as he could, Kuroo got him and Kenma out of there. I don’t know how many he left behind, but I do know that Yamamoto is all that’s left. It was that following spring, I believe, and that’s when Kuroo and I met.”

Bokuto waits a second to take in Akaashi’s entire story. His brows draw together as if he’s working something out. “So that’s why,” he final mumbles and Akaashi barely catches it. He must be thinking of why Kuroo had chosen to go with Kenma.

“I’m not saying I don’t understand why he left,” Akaashi decides to continue. “I do. I’m just not happy the way it happened.”

“And what about you? What happened in the outbreak?”

This is the part that Akaashi’s not so ready to tell. He feels his jaw lock and it’s like if he opens it to tell Bokuto that story he’ll throw up. Kuroo’s story is one thing. Unpleasant, but he’s spent days detaching himself from everything that’s happened because he has to, but this…

“You brought up Konoha before, soon after we met actually and Kuroo said it, too, before he left. You promised that one night that you would tell me about what happened, after everything I told you about before.”

Akaashi looks away and tries to roll over away from Bokuto, but he traps him in his arms again. He feels that guilt, there’s no denying it. Bokuto deserves to know if only because Akaashi had promised. A hand brushes under his chin to gently raise his eyes back up. Bokuto frowns and Akaashi wishes he could change that. He just doesn’t think he can right now and if Bokuto gets his way, the story won’t either.

“No, no, Akaashi, please don’t go silent again. Talk to me.”

And Akaashi remembers what Iwaizumi told him to do back in Tozawa. He wants to. He desperately wants to tell Bokuto. Kiyoko and Kuroo had known, but they’re both dead now. Iwaizumi is the only one left, but he’s not here. If they’re all about to go down the same road as Kuroo and Kenma in the upcoming weeks, and that’s definitely a possibility, Akaashi figures he owes it at least to tell Bokuto what happened. But with the loss of Kuroo so soon, he really doesn’t want to think of Konoha—even though he seems to be the one thing constantly reappearing in his thoughts lately.

Akaashi sighs deeply before starting. “There were four of us, Komi, Sarukui, Konoha, and me.” He feels like he hasn’t said those names aloud for such a long time. “We all wanted to get an apartment for when we went to university, but the ones we were looking at needed five. That’s how we ended up meeting Iwaizumi. He was our fifth roommate.” He moves a bit in Bokuto’s arms, trying for a better position, realizing it’s really the conversation topic that has him so uncomfortable.

“Take your time,” Bokuto says reassuringly.

There’s so much of the story to tell, he’s not sure what to leave out, or rather what to tell Bokuto. “I’ll just get to the point,” Akaashi says at last. “In February, when the outbreak happened, it hit Japan hard, harder than anywhere else. It wasn’t even the infection that started it all. People had been getting sick for weeks leading up to it and, while the hospitals did have issues with overcrowding, it was mostly under control. What happened was that the family members of the infected weren’t happy. The doctors and nurses weren’t telling them anything. I don’t know what set it all off, but one night there were some protests at a couple of hospitals and some of them were bombed, including one just down the street from us.

“Iwaizumi had this plan. He was going to get all of us to some family he had in Tozawa. We were going to go to the train station and then follow the tracks north. Obviously, that never happened.”

There’s silence again as Akaashi vividly remembers Iwaizumi pulling them all together to make the plan. Tozawa was so far away, but he vehemently believed that they could all make it, as coolheaded as Iwaizumi was that night, and still is, Akaashi really believed. That’s why he had trusted him so much in that single moment. He remembers carrying Konoha on his back through the streets with Komi and Sarukui and dodging infected, which they knew nothing about at the time.

“Then what did happen, Akaashi?” Bokuto coaxes and Akaashi realizes he had stopped talking a moment too long. He clears his throat.

“We lost Komi and Sarukui in the train station and when we found a place to hold up in we found Konoha had been bitten, too.”

Then Bokuto asks that one question that Akaashi hadn’t wanted him to, or at least didn’t want him to know. The answer just made everything trickier. When he had told Kuroo and Kiyoko, he remembers how their eyes had changed and how much he had wanted to cringe away from that, wishing he’d never said anything. It reminded him of the way Iwaizumi’s eyes were when they were faced with Konoha’s bite.

“Who was Konoha, Akaashi? I know he’s important.”

And Akaashi knows he has to tell him because—well, he did ask after all—and he just can’t pretend that Konoha is no one at all.

Best to say it all at once. Like ripping off a band aid.

“He was my boyfriend and he didn’t give me a choice. He didn’t want to take any chances. He wanted us to shoot him. More specifically, he wanted me to shoot him. So I did.”

Bokuto’s face stays blank. That leaves Akaashi’s mind to wonder, waiting for his reaction. It immediately goes back to comparing his and Kuroo’s situations. Kuroo was right, they are so much alike. All that fear and not knowing, it’s in both. The only difference is how they played out. Akaashi can hardly be made at Kuroo anyhow. Maybe if he could go back he’d turn Iwaizumi down and go with Konoha alone, despite his wishes. Maybe Konoha could have been immune like Bokuto. Maybe Akaashi should have never started to make promises to the dead.

“Why would he ask you to do that?” Bokuto finally asks.

Akaashi focuses back on his face and is briefly surprised not to find pitying eyes staring back at him. “Just like everyone else,” but he thinks of Kenma, “or nearly everyone. No one wants to turn into an infected, especially if it means endangering people they care about.”

“But why did it have to be you?” Bokuto persists. His tone isn’t giving anything away. Akaashi can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“Because he asked me to. Because he was the one that was bit and I wasn’t. Because Iwaizumi had been shooting infected all night. If he had shot Konoha like that, too—it’d be just like putting down another one. Because it was Konoha and I couldn’t stand there and do nothing. I couldn’t say no.”

Bokuto’s mouth forms firm line. He’s thinking hard and looks like he really wants to say something, but doesn’t. Instead, he buries his face into Akaashi’s hair. Though he’s still on edge, Akaashi thinks that maybe they’ll just fall back asleep and stay in bed for the day. That could be nice. And maybe Bokuto will just forget this entire conversation. Unlikely, but that could be nice, too.

But then Bokuto pops up into a sitting position, nearly toppling Akaashi from the bed as his arm slides out from beneath him. From there, he rolls to his feet, looking down on him.

“Alight, so, you smell—terribly, if I may—so let’s get cleaned up. A clean body is a clean mind, or something like that.” He leans over and hauls Akaashi to his feet as well before leading him to the bathroom down the hall.

It’s been days since Akaashi has left his room. It feels odd being outside it, but somewhat refreshing nonetheless, but maybe that’s just Bokuto’s company.

In the bathroom, Akaashi finds that the tub is already half filled, which doesn’t make any sense since Bokuto had told him yesterday that there was no plumbing.

“It’s rainwater,” Bokuto explains, seeing Akaashi eying the tub. “Not the cleanest, but better than nothing, right?”

Akaashi nods. “Thank you, Bokuto.”

“No problem!” he says cheerfully as he tosses a grin Akaashi’ way, but it slides away to become more serious. “Listen, Akaashi. I really need you to know something and then we can drop it completely. Horrible things like that happen and you have no control. What happened with Konoha and Kuroo—they’re not your fault. It’s okay to feel helpless and sad, but don’t think you can’t have days like this. You can.” Slowly, his smile comes back. “So I just wanted you to know, it’s okay. And I’m here.”

Akaashi really doesn’t know what to say, but he bites his lip and forces himself to say something, anything. “Thank you, Bokuto,” he repeats with a slight shake to his voice this time, but Bokuto doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. Instead he beams at him and shows Akaashi the last bit of soap he had saved just for him.

Bokuto takes a seat on the closed toilet while Akaashi removes his gray shirt, folding and setting it on the sink. His socks follow. He tries not to inhale while handling them because he can definitely guess how badly they smell. He should just get rid of them, but he doesn’t have any others. He sits down on the edge of the tub, facing Bokuto as he rolls up his jeans.

He wouldn’t mind having a full bath, but there’s clearly not enough soap left for him. Plus Bokuto doesn’t look like he’s moving any time soon so… Akaashi smiles faintly at the quarter-sized piece of soap that Bokuto had left for him. Dunking it into the water, he starts on his face and arms. The water is freezing and sends goosebumps crawling over his flesh. Dunking his feet in next doesn’t help. It’s amazing how much dirt he scrubs away from his arms and feet. Last, he rubs the last bit of soap through his hair, dragging his fingernails over his scalp roughly. To keep from getting more of his body wet and cold, he cups his hands with the water, even if a bit dirty, to try and rinse instead of dunking his head in completely.

“Here, let me help,” Bokuto says with a smile. He stands up and Akaashi sees that he has another bucket of cleaner water.

Akaashi smiles at that and stands up, the dirty water rippling around his ankles.

“Lean over,” Bokuto directs and slowly he pours the bucket over Akaashi’s head. It’s just as cold as the water he’s standing in. He shivers, but Bokuto is careful enough to avoid getting Akaashi’s shoulders too wet and only a few drops splash up onto his jeans. By the time the bucket is empty, his hair is rinsed clean, more or less. “Here, use this.” Bokuto steps back and tosses him an old, ratty dishcloth. “It’s not great, but well, you know.”

Taking it gratefully, Akaashi dries himself off as best he can. When he takes it away from his face, he sees Bokuto has closed in again with Akaashi’s shirt. He helps pull it over Akaashi’s head while he slides his arms through. While Bokuto fixes it down around his waist, Akaashi rolls his sleeves up, realizing it’s a bit warmer in the room than he remembers.

With his hair still dripping slightly, Akaashi straightens back up, finding himself much closer to Bokuto than he had been expecting. Bokuto smiles at him and slowly lifts his fingers up to trail back through Akaashi’s hair. It’s nearly plastered to his head from the water aside from a stray curl here and there. Bokuto’s fingers fluff it up so it can dry. He takes his time, pushing Akaashi’s hair back and pulling it forward. His smile turns into something that makes Akaashi’s stomach plummet and his heart beat madly in his chest. Part of him knows what Bokuto’s saying without actually saying anything, but the other part of him is too paralyzed with too many unknown emotions to respond.

“Bokuto,” Akaashi starts, but Bokuto interrupts.

“Akaashi,” he says, his finger halting their calming movements that have done nothing really to calm Akaashi. He leans a bit closer and Akaashi has to fight not to pull back right away. He doesn’t want to, it’s just instinct. He can’t tell what he wants. His mind’s too clouded. All he can focus on is what Bokuto’s preparing to say next, hesitating almost embarrassedly. “I’d really like to kiss you right now.”

Akaashi nearly wants to choke on laughter at the Bokuto’s cheesy phrasing, but instead his eyes widen involuntarily and, though Bokuto goes to close the space between them, he finally pulls back a few inches. “Wait,” he manages to get out in a shaky breath. Bokuto’s half lidded eyes open again and watch Akaashi carefully. He’s relieved not to find a trace of disappointment there. It warms him, burning away at his nerves that make him shake with anxiety.

Does he want to kiss Bokuto? He had honestly never asked himself that question. Maybe he had subconscious wonderings once or twice. Maybe he had thought about the way Bokuto’s arms wrapped around him in sleep or how his laugh rang out or how his ability to see the world anew, a place of beauty, and could almost always blow Akaashi’s pessimism out of the water. He thought of those things, continues to think them, and appreciates what Bokuto brings to his world, but—with things how they are—his thoughts had never strayed further than that. They were always interrupted by tragedy after tragedy in this world they are traveling in. But in those seconds, Akaashi finally allows himself to consider that possibility and he thinks maybe that kissing Bokuto could be something he’d like.

But just like everything else he’s supposed to like and enjoy in these past few days, he worries that it would be ruined by his grief. Maybe he should wait for a better time. But are there any promises of better times in the weeks ahead of them?

He thinks back to the food he has eaten the past few days, how it had been tasteless in his mouth, how it had to be gagged down. He wonders if he kisses Bokuto that it would taste like nothing, too.

Akaashi is scared that if he kisses Bokuto, he’ll feel nothing. Nothing from the only person actually capable of making him feel anything recently.

And what about Konoha? That had happened a long time ago, but had Bokuto been right in saying that Akaashi had yet to let go? Maybe. But maybe not. His grief and regret for Konoha still lingers, but somewhere, Akaashi thinks that maybe Konoha would be okay with this. Maybe he’d like Bokuto. Maybe they’d be friends. If only things had been different.

He lets those thoughts of Konoha bring warmth back into him and encourage him to let go of his doubts. He almost wants to cry in relief, the way that Konoha’s memory gives him strength instead of dragging him down with doubts. For once, he doesn’t want to push the thought of Konoha away to the back of his mind.

“I understand if you don’t,” Bokuto says, the warm look never leaving his eyes as he leans forward to rest his forehead against Akaashi’s. Akaashi allows him. “Losing everything that you have and, well—you still hold Konoha very close to you—I get that.”

“No,” Akaashi says gently before Bokuto can keep going. “I was scared for a moment, but now I’m not.”

This time, Akaashi closes the space between them. He knows Bokuto’s just a little surprised by the light gasp that tickles Akaashi’s lips, but the surprise doesn’t last long before he’s kissing back. Just like Bokuto’s arms always are, his lips are warm against Akaashi’s. They curl into a smile against those lips. It’s like having Bokuto’s arms around him in sleep, but better. His hands are still in his damp hair and Akaashi finds his own gripped tightly in Bokuto’s shirt, just over his pounding heart.

Akaashi takes a second to pull back, looking into Bokuto’s face, which looks like a star has exploded, he imagines. He’s flushed red and his eyes open wide in that leftover surprise. He blinks at Akaashi and Akaashi finds another smile growing on his lips, no longer hidden. He feels his eyes crinkle and he starts to laugh. Mostly it’s Bokuto’s expression that he’s laughing at, but it’s also the giddiness from the kiss, the relief of feeling it. Really feeling it. Pulling his hands back, he halfheartedly covers his face as he laughs some more. Quickly, Bokuto snatches them out of the air, puling them away from his face to grip them tightly between their chests, nearly sandwiched. His laugh rings out much louder, bouncing off the walls and right there, if he hadn’t already, Akaashi falls in love with that laugh.

He leans back in to kiss him again and their smothered laughs leak out when their lips part. Bokuto’s hands immediately move to cup Akaashi’s jaw while his own slide down from Bokuto’s chest to his waist. Though they want to bunch tightly again in his shirt, Akaashi forces his hands to relax in a firm grip that anchors him there with Bokuto, smelling of soap and rainwater.

When they part again, Bokuto gives one last breathless laugh down into Akaashi’s face. “I knew it,” he says confidently. “I knew I’d like kissing you.”

It’s a simple thing to say, but it makes Akaashi’s heart swell, though his face glows red. Shyly, he looks away, glancing briefly at Bokuto out of the corner of his eye. “Yes, that was nice, Bokuto. Thank you.”

And maybe Bokuto’s face lights up at the praise because he thinks Akaashi is grateful for the kiss and that he’d like to do it again sometime. He’s right, of course, but Akaashi is grateful for a whole lot more. Maybe Bokuto understands that, maybe he doesn’t. Either way, that doesn’t stop him from stealing another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really got away from me! It was a lot more work than I was expecting (and a lot longer) which is why it took a bit longer than I planned. I really hope you enjoyed it. As always, thank you so much for your kind comments and kudos :)
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVTQhQIgD-4)


	12. Bad Moon Rising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would have totally had this chapter up sooner if only my power didn't suddenly go out last night. And I won't lie...I've also become addicted to Pokemon Go so there's that. But no worries! The new chapter is here.

When Akaashi wakes, his joints are stiff from the cold night. He stretches to give them some relief. A layer of frost has covered the forest floor overnight, settling on him and Bokuto as well. Akaashi’s jacket is rigid from the frost and he tries to brush it off as he sits up. He had thought yesterday that it would be warm enough to camp out. Apparently he had been mistaken. The days are definitely dwindling now. The coloring leaves tell him as much. They have already started falling for the coming winter. They’d better start thinking of making other sleeping arrangements. Even leaning against Bokuto isn’t enough anymore.

“You’re up,” Bokuto says with a bright smile. He had the last watch of the night. Akaashi looks into Bokuto’s lap to find that he’s been going over the map again. He’s been getting really good at reading it, making leaps and bounds of progress since the first time he had tried getting them to Tozawa.

“Yes,” Akaashi says, turning his head to crack his neck. Sleeping outside is never comfortable. “We should start out right away.”

Bokuto nods hastily in agreement and folds up the map while Akaashi checks their packs. There’s only two now. They had left Bokuto’s behind long ago, combining his with Kuroo’s. Bokuto carries that one now, but both packs have been much too light for Akaashi’s comfort.

“We’ll have to think of making a stop soon. We’re running low on supplies,” he tells Bokuto as he hands off his pack.

“No need,” Bokuto says cheerfully as they start back toward the road. When he reaches it, he stops to stretch, reaching his arms out wide. “Today’s the day!”

Blinking at him, Akaashi steps closer to take the map back out of Bokuto’s front pocket. Bokuto nestles his chin on Akaashi’s shoulder and watches him trace their path along with a finger. When he reaches where they are, Bokuto steps in.

“We passed this town yesterday,” he says, pointing. “So then we should be around here. That means we only have a few miles until we reach the university. We can do that easily.”

Akaashi turns his head to give Bokuto a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good job, Bokuto,” he says and tucks the map away again. Bokuto faces away so that Akaashi can reach into his backpack. He barely has the zipper closed when Bokuto starts off again, hands clasped around the shoulder straps and a happy spring in his step. Akaashi smiles at his back before following after him.

The kisses have become normal now. They danced around it the first few days, but it’s become a good habit to sink into. Akaashi can’t put a finger on it, but everything feels a bit lighter, and it’s not just because of their backpacks. Maybe it’s because Bokuto reaches down and grabs his hand.

It’s a chilly day out with clouds drifting low in the sky. The wind blows every so often and makes them shiver. Akaashi thinks that they should look into finding some warmer clothes for the return journey, depending on how long they’ll be with the Crows. Either way though, winter clothing should be on their list to find the next time they scavenge, which, Crows or not, still needs to happen soon.

“Do you ever miss university, Akaashi?” Bokuto asks after a few minutes.

They walk side-by-side, shoulders brushing occasionally and elbows knocking, fingers intertwined loosely. Akaashi glances over to him and shrugs. He’s not surprised by the topic. They are heading to a university campus after all. “A little bit,” he replies. “I miss how things were, but there’s no use worrying about that. Besides, everything’s not so bad now.”

Bokuto grins at him, thinking Akaashi means him. And he does. Bokuto has become one of the very few one reasons to keep going each day. If not for him, Akaashi would probably still be stuck in Shizuoka or maybe even Tozawa, if he ever got that far, and he’d never really be happy there alone, staying in one place, but maybe with Bokuto—

“So,” Bokuto starts, “what did you want to be when you grew up?”

The question makes Akaashi laugh a little. “That’s a little childish sounding.”

Bokuto’s face glows red and he turns it away, trying to hide it from Akaashi. “Shut up. You know what I mean,” he mumbles.

“Alright, Bokuto, I wanted to be a doctor.”

Bokuto brightens at this. “Really?” His dejected mood evaporating already.

Akaashi nods. “Yes, I wanted cure diseases like the one that started all this—especially those kind. It was so frustrating watching everything that happened and I just didn’t have enough schooling to be of any help. Konoha would always make fun of me.”

“So you wanted to make vaccines like the Crows are going to do with me?”

“Something like that.”

Bokuto quickens his pace excitedly, releasing Akaashi’s hand, before turning to walk backwards while still facing Akaashi. Akaashi would tell him to calm down and walk normal, but he’s already done this too many times before.

“What if you still could be? What if you learned from the Crows? I know they have doctors that could teach you, then you could be one, too,” he rambles out quickly, too much excitement can never be contained within him for long.

Smiling at the thought, Akaashi takes Bokuto’s hand again so that he’ll walk forward again alongside him. “It’s a bit too late for that,” Bokuto,” he says.

“What? No it’s not.” His face falls slightly.

Akaashi stops them in the middle of the road, taking both of Bokuto’s hands this time. “It just that,” he pauses, face thoughtful as he looks at Bokuto, “I don’t think I want to be a doctor anymore. I’m not all that good at saving people.”

Bokuto goes to protest, but Akaashi shakes his head at him and keeps going.

“But I am good at trying to help them. That’s kind of like a doctor, just a little different. So I’m okay with not being one. That all belongs in the past and I’m okay with that.”

Slowly, Bokuto’s face loses its worried look and starts to smile again. “Okay then, Akaashi. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Akaashi gives his hands a squeeze before continuing on. “Trust me, Bokuto.”

**———**

They find Akita University easy enough, but so many buildings look the same that Akaashi can’t be entirely sure which is the library. There’s a map pinned to a message board that they run into near the entrance of the campus, posted along with other university events that once happened. Maybe some never had the chance. It’s a tad faded, but Akaashi makes it out easily enough. He points down one sidewalk.

“If we follow this, it should take us right to the library.”

Bokuto nods. “Sounds good,” he chirps. “Lead on.”

The buildings, lecture halls, and dormitories all look worn, just like any other buildings in the cities and towns. Maybe it’s just off-putting because Akaashi hasn’t seen a campus in five years and the last time he did, it looked like any normal university without any worries about infected or gangs. It was taken care of by groundskeepers, made to look presentable, always hoping to recruit new students.

But this place is a ghost of his old campus. Though it’s certainly different, like not being in a big city, but the feeling is still there. It’s seen the effects of weather and time. White buildings have dulled and it would take more than a bit of imagination to try and see what this place looked like in its prime. While some windows remain intact, most have been punched through completely, shattered, or cracked.

As they walk, Akaashi wonders how many students had been separated from their families when hell broke loose. He wonders if they tried to hold up in their dorms or how many had started off immediately, maybe even alone, to try and get back home. It makes his heart sink to imagine that the majority had never seen home or families again. The percentage of anyone making it out was just too low. He can’t even remember spotting other kids from campus as they all tried to escape Tokyo, but he does think back to his own group. That he recalls clearly. Out of the five of them, only two had survived. And that’s only because they had worked together. How many thought they could go out on their own?

“So what was university like?” Bokuto asks eagerly. He’s definitely not thinking the same as Akaashi. While campus reminds Akaashi of a dark and horrible night where everything changed, it brings hope to Bokuto. Here is where the Crows are and here is where they might develop a cure.

Akaashi shrugs. “Pretty ordinary, I guess.” He wants to leave it at that, not sure how to really explain university when he had only spent a semester and a half there, but he knows Bokuto never had a chance to go and never will. He probably hadn’t started even considering it before the outbreak happened. “You moved away from home, took classes, went to parties, found yourself. I don’t know. It’s not like the movies. Not so extreme. At least, it wasn’t for me.”

Bokuto laughs at Akaashi’s awkward explanation. “So did you party a lot?”

“No,” Akaashi replies, making a face. “I was too busy. I wanted to be a doctor, remember. Classes were a lot of work.”

“But you’re like super smart.”

Throwing a smile his way, Akaashi shakes his head. “Still, the modules you took were a lot different from high school. And then it could be pretty expensive, too. I had a job on campus to help pay for school.”

“Ooh, where’d you work?”

“Just a café during some nights. Most of the time I stayed late to close. Not too many kids came in, except around exam time, but other than that I could sit and do homework.” He pauses, thinking back. He admits, he hasn’t visited these old ordinary memories in a very long time. He can’t even remember much of his classes. If he thinks hard, maybe he could remember what he took his first semester, but most is just a blur. “I was actually working the night of the outbreak. I’d just gotten home and the protests were all over the news.”

Bokuto thinks hard as he continues walking at Akaashi’s side, tapping his chin. Amused, Akaashi watches out of the corner of his eye. “Hmm, I never really thought about what I wanted to do with my life so I don’t know what I’d study if I ever got the chance to go to university.”

“Well, what did you enjoy doing? Sometimes you can find a career path based on your hobbies.” Akaashi’s face twists awkwardly at his words. He sounds like some kind of counselor, urging Bokuto to choose a school. On the other hand, Bokuto takes Akaashi’s words seriously.

His face brightens and he claps his hands together in his excitement. “I know!” The sudden noise though makes him flinch almost as an afterthought. “Sorry! I’d want to be a professional volleyball player!”

Feeling his face deadpanning, Akaashi stares at him. “Volleyball?” he asks dumbly and Bokuto nods eagerly. That wasn’t exactly what he meant.

“Yep! I was really good, Akaashi! You should’ve seen. I could’ve definitely done it!”

“I believe you, Bokuto,” Akaashi says mostly to calm Bokuto from being so loud, but also because he really does believe Bokuto could do nearly anything he set his mind to. He does wish he could have seen Bokuto play.

“And if I had,” Bokuto starts, “you’d come to all my games, wouldn’t you, Akaashi?”

“We didn’t know each other back then,” Akaashi says gently.

“But if we had!”

“Then yes, of course, Bokuto. I’d watch all of your games.”

“And if we had known each other before all this and the outbreak, we’d be friends still, wouldn’t we?”

“Absolutely, Bokuto,” Akaashi reassures.

They walk a bit further, a building slowly growing closer near the end of the path. From what Iwaizumi had described, it looks like it could be the library. Bokuto sees it, too, and Akaashi can almost feel him vibrating with nerves beside him. He can’t even imagine how he must feel. Neither of them have any idea of what to expect. Bokuto must be a mix of anxiousness and excitement, finally finding the Crows after all this time, after months of dead ends. Akaashi feels this as well, but not to the same extent as Bokuto, he imagines.

“How many do you think there’ll be?” Bokuto asks, eyes set on the library.

Akaashi thinks about it. There used to be a ton of Crows around, but with them and the military butting heads and all those executions, he has no clue how many could possibly be left. Still—“I would think quite a bit,” he answers. “Creating a vaccine out of nothing has to be hard work. Plus they must be doing a whole lot more than just searching for a cure.”

“But you think they’re trying the hardest for a cure?” Bokuto asks and it hurts Akaashi to hear hope in his voice. For the first time, Akaashi wonders if Daichi had convinced Bokuto that the Crows could do no wrong. He adjusts his backpack, like reaching for an itch he knows he can’t scratched.

“I’m sure they are,” he says.

But they’re probably not. They had to have been doing this for nearly five years now. Without much progress, how much more could they be doing? Any kind of work toward a cure must be on standstill by now. Most of their efforts are probably put toward saving their own necks from the military, keeping a low profile. Maybe they have other easier projects to be working on, reestablishing the medical world after everything was lost or even just trying to create something—anything—out of nothing at all. Besides, even if there is by chance a small team still working for a cure, there’s no guarantee that they’ll be here. Maybe these Crows will send them on another wild goose chase to find another group of Crows that might be able to use Bokuto’s immunity for a vaccine. Akaashi has no idea. All he knows are his endless doubts.

However, his words do have a positive effect on Bokuto, despite the worries running rampant in his own head. He’ll have to settle for that small victory.

“Do you think there’ll be others like me?” Bokuto pipes up again.

Akaashi hesitates.

“Or what about others my age? I don’t want to go and be surrounded by old people wearing medical masks.” He gives a shiver.

“You never know, Bokuto,” Akaashi decides to say, opting to avoid Bokuto’s first question and only offering a vague answer. Luckily, Bokuto doesn’t seem to notice.

Bokuto glances around looking antsy.

“What is it?” Akaashi asks.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says slowly. “You think maybe we should’ve run into somebody by now?”

It’s crossed Akaashi’s mind, too, but again he keeps his doubts to himself. “Maybe, but maybe they like to stay low. They’re not exactly popular with anyone right now. It’d look better if this place were vacant than for them to rush out at everyone who passes by.”

“You’re right,” Bokuto says with a serious nod.

The library’s doors are sealed tight when they reach them. It takes both of them to force their way inside. Once they’re in, they find a metal shelf of books scraped across the wooden floor. It must have been pushed up against the door, blocking it.

Akaashi finds that Iwaizumi was right. There are definitely books everywhere, but it’s absolutely huge. The inside of the library almost seems like an auditorium. One side goes up gradually, using stairs to reach a new level of bookshelves, like where the sets would be. Walking further in, Akaashi sees the rest stacks three stories above their heads with glass-paneled railings covering the edge of each floor, which disappears into more shelves and study rooms. The ceiling flies away from them, a spider web of wooden beams. Some have broken and splintered with age and all have faded from the skylights. It’s clearly not as impressive as it once was, but impressive nonetheless.

Bokuto begins wandering in, his face awestruck and gazing up and around them. Akaashi catches his sleeve before he can go off too far. “I know the Crows are supposed to be here, but be careful still, okay?”

“I will, Akaashi,” Bokuto says with a cheerful smile and a nod. “Just because the Crows are here doesn’t mean that an infected couldn’t have broken in. Who knows? The rest of the campus might not be secured.”

Though Akaashi is starting to become very doubtful that the Crows are here at all, he’s at least assured by Bokuto’s reasoning. He knows Bokuto won’t just walk ahead blindly and he’s proud at how much he’s picked up over the months.

They explore around the large open space of the first floor and its three levels of shelves. It’s eerily silent throughout the space and he and Bokuto don’t make much difference as they continue on just as quietly. The only time the silence breaks is when they near a basement door down a side hallway. A sign tells them to _keep out, infected!_ with the handle padlocked as well as chained up just to be safe. They can hear moaning and crying mixed with other almost human sounds on the other side. They go back the way they came, putting as much space between them and the infected and decide to start heading upstairs. There are not many signs of the Crows down here. Akaashi hopes that they’ll at least run into some clues that they were here once or better yet, actually find them. He continues to keep these doubts from Bokuto.

Since it’s clear that the main floor offers no clues, Akaashi and Bokuto take the stairs to the next floor up. There, they find more traces of people, but don’t actually see anyone. While Bokuto walks around the floor in search of clues, Akaashi stumbles upon study rooms and offices. A few of these smaller rooms look as though they were mainly used for storage. He finds boxes stacked and labeled with faded out markers. He can hardly read some of them. Going through the boxes on top, Akaashi sees that they’re filled to the brim with documents, all filed in some kind of order unknown to him. In one room, every single piece of paper he looks at is stamped with _FAILED_ in big red letters. He doesn’t bother reading them, though he does view enough to recognize that they were performing different experiments.

When he wanders to the larger rooms and offices, Bokuto comes to join him. Together, they walk through makeshift lab setups. There’s not much to find that makes much sense to either of them. It all looks like a slightly more advanced high school chemistry lab, although nothing’s around to indicate what the Crows had been up to.

Though they haven’t covered the entire floor left, Akaashi gestures Bokuto to follow him back to the stairs. “There’s clearly not much here,” he says. “Let’s keep going.”

Bokuto looks back over his shoulder and Akaashi can see the frustrated glint in his eyes. He knows what he’s feeling, or what he must be feeling, with no sight of an actual Crow.

“Who knows what we’ll find upstairs.” Akaashi gives Bokuto a hopeful shrug and heads forward again with Bokuto following now. “We can always come back,” he adds, hoping to comfort Bokuto, even if just a little.

The next floor yields just as few results. It’s more of a mess, as if the Crows had left without taking the time to pack. Akaashi finds more documents scattered around more labs that had been set up. He glances through a few as they make their way around. They tell a little bit more about what the Crows were doing here.

“Watch out for any rats and mice,” he murmurs while following Bokuto into another study room.

“Huh?” Bokuto asks turning back to look at Akaashi. “Why?”

Akaashi flips through to another page. “Apparently that’s what they were researching with. It’s what we figured. The Crows were working on a vaccine here.”

“So that means they’re not here anymore.” Bokuto sighs and drops his gaze to his feet.

“They weren’t getting anywhere fast,” Akaashi continues, plowing on through without commenting on Bokuto’s statement. That should speak for itself after all. “That explains all those documents downstairs. Nothing was working so—well, it looks like—they were trying more dangerous experiments.”

Sitting on one of the study tables, Bokuto’s stare is a bit lost. “Dangerous how?”

“Well, in this experiment they wanted to see whether or not the virus is dormant in animals. They tested different exposure levels compared to injections over different periods of time.” He pulls out two pages to compare. “Of course, with each had a control group, that’s a lot of infected rodents to be working with.”

“Let me guess, something went wrong?” Bokuto asks, resting his chin on his fist. “Experimentation doesn’t usually end well. And with all that science mumbo jumbo.”

Akaashi frowns, though he can’t help the amusement that raises his brows. “Science mumbo jumbo?” he repeats. “Haven’t you had a lab before, Bokuto? That’s how you track changes.”

Shrugging, Bokuto pushes off the table and exits the room, leaving Akaashi to follow him. “All I’m saying is, with all those infected mice, something’s bound to go wrong. Seeing how nobody’s around, I’m guessing it all went south, right?”

“Depending on how badly they lost control of a group,” Akaashi muses aloud, “they could lose all their data. Plus, that would endanger everyone here. If the virus turned out to be just as active in rats and mice just like humans, and if people were bitten—that would explain the infected locked in the basement.”

Stopping, Bokuto’s jaw drops as he whirls back around to face Akaashi. “What if all the Crows are dead? What if they’re already extinct?”

Akaashi snorts, only a tiny bit so as not to offend Bokuto too badly. “You’re being dramatic,” he says lightly, grabbing Bokuto’s hand to lead him on. “A bunch of mice haven’t killed off the Crows. They wouldn’t all be in one place. This library’s far too small for that. Besides, the Crows offer too much of a threat to every military complex in Japan. They wouldn’t suddenly all be dead.” He gives Bokuto’s hand a tight squeeze to reassure him. “Trust me, okay? We’ll find them. Now let’s keep looking and find out where they went.”

**———**

After finding only remains of the Crows’ research, it’s a bit of a surprise when they enter a room that actually has a body in it. Up until now, Akaashi had been suspecting that they had all either left or were locked in the basement with infection. Maybe by now they had abandoned their research completely. It’s a shock to both of them to find a real body left behind.

The body looks pretty old, maybe a couple months, but it sure does stink up the room in a stale kind of way. He wears a lab coat that hardly looks white anymore and he sits slouched in his chair where he had been sitting at his desk when he died. By the way his skull is shattered, the old blood that stains one shoulder, leaked onto the ground, and the gun dropped nearby, he had shot himself. He was probably bitten, Akaashi assumes. Otherwise he would’ve left with the other Crows.

Akaashi looks up to see Bokuto’s big eyes on him. They’re confused, but there’s still a sense of knowing. He understands what this means. This is the undeniable proof that the Crows are definitely not here anymore. They just need to find out where they went.

Glancing back to the man’s desk, Akaashi finds an old voice recorder. He picks it up, showing it to Bokuto, before pressing play. If anything can give them a clue to their next destination, this will.

“If you want the Crows, they’ve gone,” a young man’s voice speaks through the recording’s crackle.

Bokuto nods at that. “Thank you very much,” he says dryly.

“And so am I. Dead, and soon probably. I don’t know how long, but I’m alone now so I have some time to reflect—”

Akaashi rolls his eyes and clicks a button to skip ahead. They don’t need to hear this man’s life story. They need to know where the Crows went.

“We’ve been here for years, can’t remember—”

“—but that failed. Just a huge fucking—“

“What a mess,” the man pauses, “but if you’re looking for the others, they returned to Kenritsu Central Hospital in Asamushi. You’ll find them there. They’ll be saving the world I’m sure,” he says scornfully. “A lot of good that did me.”

Akaashi shuts it off before the man can go on. They have what they need.

“Do you know where that is?” Bokuto asks hesitantly, as if afraid the answer will send them clear across the country again.

At first, Akaashi is afraid of that, too, but he clears away the desk, sending papers and dried up pens to the floor. The dead man won’t be using them anymore. Bokuto hands him the map, which he spreads out for them. He scans it quickly, mumbling over the names he passes.

“Here,” he says jabbing a finger down. “Further north. It’s in the Aomori Prefecture.”

“So that’s not too much further?” Bokuto asks.

Shaking his head, Akaashi folds the map back up. “No, it won’t take too long to get to.”

“Great! So we set out tomorrow?”

The light is slowly fading in the sky and Akaashi is about to agree until he hears something. He quickly hushes Bokuto with a wave of his hand and says, “Wait, get down.” While Bokuto crouches behind the desk, Akaashi carefully peers out the window. They’re just over one of the library’s doors. He sees two men disappear inside and he’s not sure if there could be more. They saunter in casually, unaware that they’re not alone. Akaashi assumes they’re just here to search for supplies; however, that doesn’t make them any less dangerous. Like him and Bokuto, they’ll probably shoot first and ask questions later.

He backs away from the window, turning back to Bokuto who stares up at him. “We’ve got company,” he informs while taking off his backpack. He grabs his gun before looking back to find Bokuto doing the same without being told and tucks the map away as well. They nod to each other and Akaashi takes the lead. “We’ll try to get out unnoticed,” Akaashi explains to Bokuto in a whisper once they’ve made it back to the hallways of offices. “If they start shooting, you shoot back.”

“Right,” Bokuto says and Akaashi is relieved by the confidence in his voice. No longer is he afraid of the gun that he grips in his hands. Akaashi can relax with Bokuto by his side.

They head quickly and quietly back down the hall and then make a sprint toward the nearest bookcase. Akaashi motions Bokuto freeze as they crouch down. Holding his breath, he listens carefully. There are footsteps and muffled talk. Some of them have already made it up here.

Akaashi drags Bokuto roughly behind him as he goes down an aisle of books and takes cover again, trying to pinpoint where the intruders are. He’s surprised when he hears a voice not too far away, maybe a few shelves down.

“Hey, wait. Did you hear something?”

A crackle of radio static, then a new voice sounds. “We might have something up here.”

Continuing to hold their breaths, Akaashi and Bokuto wait a painful second before a voice just barely comes through the static.

“Yeah, okay. Want us to send a few guys up there?”

“Might be a good idea.”

There’s an affirmative reply on the other end and Akaashi hears guns being cocked. They’re not going to be meeting any friendly strangers today. Their best bet might be to make a break for it, get to the stairs, and lose them on another floor.

“We’ll have to run,” he breathes to Bokuto. “Before any more get here.”

Bokuto nods and waits for Akaashi’s signal.

When the footsteps sound the furthest away, he moves, sprinting as fast as he can, trying to remember the route to the stairs.

“Over there!” one yells. “There they go!”

Bullets splinter the wooden shelves and Akaashi and Bokuto duck for any sort of cover. However, the shelves’ protection leaves them as they dash down the hallway, three men right on their tails. One shoots and it flies right over Akaashi’s shoulder, making his ears ring painfully. Still better than getting shot.

The hall ends with the glass railing. Akaashi hears rather than sees Bokuto hit the ground, whether he tripped or was pulled escapes his notices. Instead of making a sharp turn to the stairs, Akaashi stops at the railing. Running into it, he catches himself roughly with his hands and the railing shifts and squeaks under his weight. He spins around to fire off his gun, hitting one man straight in the chest. Panting, Akaashi scans the dim hall to see what happened to Bokuto, anxious to help him.

He finds him trying to wrestle a gun out of his attacker’s hands. He gets kneed in the side of his head, but he clings on stubbornly, giving a man a run for his money. Akaashi takes a step forward, but a weight crashes into his chest, coming from his right. This third figure he had forgotten about crashes into him, shoving him back against the railing and they hear a terrible cracking noise. That’s immediately followed by the exploding sound of glass breaking and the creaking of metal. Then a gunshot.

The railing and glass panel gives out behind him and he falls backward over the edge, taking his attacker down with him. That one, single second of free-fall seems to stretch on forever, enough time to wonder about the shot and about Bokuto. It makes his stomach plummet faster than his body. He has a second to yell out until it’s cut off and he lands hard on his back with the guy on top of him. All of the wind is knocked from his chest and he coughs, struggling to pull in breaths. His entire body hurts, deep into his joints, vibrating with the hard fall, but he can barely think of the pain. It’s dulled by his need for air. He gasps excruciatingly, having never felt the need to forcefully haul in his breath and still feeling like there’s none in him.

He manages the strength to push the man off of him. Something like fire bursts inside him from the motion. He can almost feel it travel up his spine, tingling down to his fingertips. It’s not until he lies still again that he feels the full effect of moving. Like when you put your hand under burning water and immediately pull it out. You don’t feel how much it hurts until it’s out of the water. Akaashi feels that now, although this pain is so much more than hot water. It freezes his body, waiting for the wave of pain to fade, only it doesn’t.

Before he can locate where he’s hurt, he achingly lifts his arm to take aim. His gun is still clutched tightly in numb fingers, where it’s always locked in moments like these, but it feels ten times heavier as he shoots. Though his vision blurs terribly until he sees doubles, even triples, of everything around him, his aim is still good, based more on instinct now than sight alone. The man’s head explodes before he can even push up from his knees, painting the bookcase behind him with his blood.

Akaashi’s arm flops to the ground. He still pants and coughs violently, but has started getting his breath back. But that only allows him to locate the fiery pain to his stomach. He tries sitting up, or at least to raise his shoulders off the ground, but the pain expands, leaving him to cry out and fall back. He’s left to explore with a shaky hand instead. While one still clings to the gun as if life depends on it, his other hand travels slowly up from his side. It soon finds the metal piercing up through his stomach, maybe a bit to the right, and about as tall the width of his hand. It’s wet with his blood and he can feel the warm wetness against the small of his back where it’s beginning to pool. He tries to wiggle, but it’s a weak attempt and only makes his vision erupt with white flire and go dark for a second. His gasping fills his ears when’s he’s able to see again.

Somewhere nearby, he can hear Bokuto calling his name. The relief he feels is almost extinguished entirely as another wave of agony throbs over his body.

Suddenly, Bokuto appears. He’s blurry, his head splitting and the room feels like it’s spinning, but Akaashi can still see his eyes. They’re wide with worry—no, more than worry—terror, and they keep glancing from Akaashi’s face to the metal bar sticking out of him. Clearly it had once been the framing around the glass panels of the railing. There are more men coming. He can hear them dimly. His mind is so fuzzy. Stuffed with cotton balls.

“What do you need me to do?” Bokuto asks loudly. Their chance at secrecy is gone now. He’s trying to speak up over Akaashi’s gagging and breathing.

He realizes now how fast and how shallow his breaths are coming.

Before he can respond, a different set of doors burst open. The Crows had blocked those doors however long ago, but now three men from the group break into the library. Akaashi reaches up to shove Bokuto to the side. Once again he fights to get his gun into the air. Letting instinct take over once more, he fires at the men running across the room toward them. While he shoots two down, Bokuto takes out the second. With them down, Bokuto hurries back to his side, panting. His hands hover over the metal, unsure.

“Akaashi?” he prompts, his voice panicky.

“Bend down,” Akaashi manages to grunt. Once Bokuto is leaning over, Akaashi lifts his hands to loop around Bokuto’s neck. They clasp the gun tightly, already predicting how bad this is going to hurt. “Pull,” he gasps, bracing himself. “Hard.”

And Bokuto grabs his sides firmly, but as gently as he can, Akaashi can feel his hesitation, and then he pulls.

There’s an awful tearing sound and Akaashi can’t quite convince himself it’s coming from his own body. He wants to help Bokuto lift by pushing with his legs, but pain rips through him like lightning and his vision goes white again, burning like fire, everything is, before there’s a second of darkness.

Then he finds himself leaning on Bokuto’s shoulder with Bokuto supporting nearly all of his weight. Akaashi’s left hand is already pressed firmly to the wound, instinct again. It drips through his fingers and he can feel the blood sliding down his legs. He can’t stand up straight. He doesn’t even think he can walk unaided.

But he’ll have to.

He pushes off from Bokuto, though Bokuto’s hands linger to steady him and Akaashi’s arm still rests heavily on his shoulder while the hand still clutches the gun. He takes just a second before letting that arm drop. They’re still at the top level of the raised section of selves, but the door they came through is in sight. They just need to make it there.

“We need to get out of here,” he murmurs, but Bokuto still stares at him with those wide eyes. He hasn’t started thinking ahead yet. He needs to.

“Can you walk?” he stutters out

Akaashi grunts painfully with a nod. When Bokuto still looks doubtful, he barks, “Go!” and Bokuto scurries toward the exit, gun at the ready.

There’s no time for either of them to be coddled. This isn’t a situation to be stuck in. They need to be very far from here and fast. Akaashi’s not sure if he can make it that fast.

They make it down one level before Akaashi hears gunfire raining down on them again. He hadn’t even seen the men enter this time. He and Bokuto barely throw themselves behind the bookcases, though for Akaashi it’s more of a stumble and collapse to dodge the bullets. Of course he had to have that terrible fall on the opposite side of the room to the exit. He couldn’t just land on the doorstep. That would make for an easier escape. Panting hard, he presses back against the wooden shelves. His hand is warm and wet against his wound and his right hand shakes with the effort of keeping a tight grip on his gun.

Bokuto stands behind the opposite bookcase beside him, just across the aisle. He peeks precariously over the top and then switches to the side for a better look. He quickly takes a shot but curses when he misses. Akaashi slumps the rest of the way to the ground. It’s getting harder to breathe. Each inhale wracks his entire body with pain, stretching the hole even slightly. Leaning his head back, he tries for shallow breathing. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt something like this before. Is it finally his time to be cut down? Like Komi, Sarukui, Konoha, Futakuchi, Kiyoko, Kenma, Kuroo? So many others. After all, he’s been dragging his luck out for a long time now.

Maybe he deserves it. Thinking of Futakuchi and the awful way he was dealt with along with so many others, Akaashi can’t doubt it. But no, he’s doing the right thing here with Bokuto, getting him to the Crows. This is what he’s supposed to be doing. He may still very well die despite it all, but he can’t deserve it. He’s trying to pay everything back with this.

“Shit,” Bokuto breathes, drawing him back out of his thoughts. “Can’t these assholes stop shooting for a _second_?”

Slowly, Akaashi leans around the bookcase. He only barely moves back in time before the side of it shatters from a well-aimed bullet. He peers back around though and fires a quick shot. It gets one in the shoulder, making him curse loudly, but the gun’s recoil has Akaashi’s arm aching and his head spinning again. His vision goes a bit black around the edges.

In the brief pause between the shooting, Bokuto dives and rolls over to Akaashi. He heaves him up by his arms. Luckily for them, the shelves are just barely higher than their heads, at least with Bokuto weighed down by the weight he shoulders.

“Let’s try circling around them,” Bokuto suggests.

Akaashi waves him off weakly, gesturing him to take the lead. Bokuto casts him a doubtful look, but moves on anyway. He crouches low in the gaps between shelves, hoping no one will spot them. Akaashi has to move quite a bit slower.

Bokuto is like an impatient child. He hurries on ahead, glances back to Akaashi, waits, and then moves back a ways before doing it all over again. He’s antsy and anxious. Akaashi knows this. He feels the same If only he could move faster. It would be far easier to take these guys on and escape.

There’s a pile of books left out that he doesn’t see and he trips over them, bumping into the closest shelf. If that doesn’t alert their attackers, than the painful gasp that leaves his lips does. He pants hard and tries to hurry up his slow pace.

“They’re trying to go around!” one shouts. “Watch your left!”

Bokuto hurries back to Akaashi’s side and though Akaashi tries to push him on ahead, he grabs his arm and loops it over his shoulder. The rough movement nearly sends Akaashi to the floor again. He bites down on his lip to keep from making any louder noises and he feels blood dribbling down his chin. All he can do is let Bokuto half drag him and press even harder to his stomach with his gun still in hand.

There’s a stretch of empty space between the last bookcase and the doors they need to go through to escape the library and all of its new angry inhabitants. Akaashi knows he’ll be filled with even more holes if they keep going at this pace. There aren’t many men, but they’ll overpower him and Bokuto easily in this state of things.

Bokuto however doesn’t see this danger. He keeps going, trying to walk waster and pulling Akaashi along at the same time. Akaashi tries to protest, but he can’t find his voice. It feels like pushing words out is even harder than pulling in air was just minutes ago. All he can do is raise his gun again away from his wound. It drips with his blood and he takes aim at the man appearing from behind the shelf. This time he shoots way too far right, but it’s enough for Bokuto to see the danger. Before he can give into the pain, he fires off again, hitting a man in the thigh.

Unable to keep shooting, Akaashi’s arm drops and he becomes deadweight in Bokuto’s arms and now that his attention has drifted, Akaashi slips to the ground with a thump. It goes dark longer this time. When it does, the pain seems farther away. He wants it to take him away, drown out everything else, but gunshots are too loud in his ears. There’s still a blurry picture playing out in the distance. He watches Bokuto put a gun straight against a man’s forehead and pull the trigger. The next time the darkness clears, he’s being dragged down.

Akaashi fights to get to his feet, but his limbs aren’t obeying. He can’t even flex his fingers to reclaim his gun. Sticky with blood, it stays on the ground where his limp fingers can’t reclaim it. He’s breathing, but not without a conscious effort. Pulling air in and pushing it out. And it’s like that metal rod is being shoved into him again and again. It throbs under his fingers.

“Akaashi.”

And that worried voice makes the darkness go away just a little. He grunts in reply. “Still here,” he gets out, though his words sound garbled to his ears.

“Nearly there,” Bokuto says. He’s panting and his voice shakes, but he still gets Akaashi to his feet again. “Here. Arm around me.”

Akaashi can barely swing it high enough, but he manages.

“I think we’re in the clear,” Bokuto says as he pushes the doors open.

The sun is setting and they can see the moon rising faintly in the opposite end of the sky. Akaashi knows they need to find somewhere for the night, but the library isn’t safe. This campus isn’t safe. So where? Where can they go? But before he can try to get his mind to think straight, the pain interferes again and he can do nothing but focus on that. He groans from the effort of staying upright, even though it’s Bokuto who’s keeping him that way.

Bokuto looks to Akaashi. His face is bloody and he has a bruised eye and his eyes are wide with fear, but Akaashi doesn’t see these things. He’s half dragged, barely able to set a foot down. “Akaashi, what do we do? Where should we go?” Bokuto asks. “You gotta tell me what to do.”

Akaashi closes his eyes to think, but the only thought is that there’s silence at last. He feels the adrenaline slipping away. His knees turn to jelly and he pushes the pain away, to wherever he can. He just can’t process it anymore. His body has already gone limp, too tired. So tired. The darkness comes settling back in. It’s thicker now and nothing can shine through, not even his bright sun that’s asking him what to do again.

Bokuto catches him before he hits the ground, but even if he hadn’t, Akaashi wouldn’t have felt it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited that this story has entered it's last stretch (in a way), or at least in my planning. It's great to see how far it has come and I'm so so grateful for everyone who's come along this journey with me.
> 
> Sorry! I just took a look back on this story and I'm just so happy that I've been able to keep up with it.
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l2S4GTD-AAw)


	13. Shots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is completely in Bokuto's perspective, but it also switches between present and past events. So that it's clear, everything in the past will be in italics. And thank you for being patient with this chapter. It's taken a bit longer, but this chapter is also the longest so far (and will probably be the longest of the entire story).

_He cries out when two pairs of hands shake him roughly awake and he kicks out, knocking whoever’s there to the ground so he can pull out the switchblade he keeps hidden under his pillow. Laughter peels through the air and Bokuto drops his defenses, arm lowering and his own face breaking into a smile. He’d recognize those laughs anywhere even if his eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark yet._

_“What—Noya, Tanaka—you guys are back?” he asks. He should be angry at the two, but he can’t find it in him. It’s just too good to see their smiling faces again. “I thought I was getting attacked or something.”_

_Noya laughs loudly again and points a finger at Bokuto. “You should’ve seen your face!”_

_“It was awesome,” Tanaka chuckles in agreement._

_Folding his blade back up, Bokuto throws himself at the two. They’ve barely gotten to their feet from being kicked over and Bokuto sends them all back to the floor. They all burst out laughing again._

_“We’re back, sugar blossom,” Noya snickers teasingly._

_“What we’ve done without you, sweat pea, I don’t know.”_

_Bokuto chuckles and knocks the two away. He’s forgotten how much he’s missed his two goofy friends and their strange affinity for nicknames, particularly Noya._

_Tanaka is the one to shush them. “Shh,” he says, finger to his lips, though he’s still fighting back his own giggles, “someone will hear!”_

_He’s right and their happy laughter quiets to an excited hum. Too many others live here and the walls are paper-thin. Bokuto hopes he hasn’t woken any of his neighbors. They’ll just go get Daichi and he’ll get in trouble again, Noya and Tanaka, too. He guesses they had snuck in for a reason._

_“I don’t even,” Bokuto pauses, staring back and forth between the two, “I don’t even know how long it’s been.”_

_“Fifty?” Noya asks, turning to Tanaka for confirmation._

_Crossing his arms, Tanaka thinks carefully. “Today makes fifty-one days.”_

_Bokuto shakes his head in disbelief, awestruck that he hasn’t seen his best friends in so long. Again, anger floats briefly in the back of his mind, but it disappears completely with what Tanaka says next._

_“Wanna know what we’ve been doing?” He wears a sly smile on his face._

_“Absolutely!” Bokuto gushes in an excited whisper._

_Noya gives him a wink. “Check these out.” Both he and Tanaka gesture toward their jackets._

_Bokuto has to squint and lean in closer to see. He gasps. The Crows’ symbol is pinned and polished on their jackets, silver with the black wings of a crow. “No way,” he breathes._

_“Daichi still hasn’t gotten you a roommate?” Noya asks as he jumps to his feet._

_The other two follow him. “Hey, don’t try changing the subject,” Bokuto says. “You guys are with the Crows?”_

_“You were stuck with us for five years and now you get the whole place to yourself?” Noya mumbles. He searches through the room, going through Bokuto’s things and the stuff he and Tanaka had left behind “Rude.”_

_Shaking his head at him, Tanaka turns away to address Bokuto’s question with a knowing nod._

_Backing away, Bokuto gets both of them in his sights. Noya stops his rifling and faces Bokuto. He can’t believe it. He drags his hands through his hair. “No way,” he whispers again, les excited this time. He stares at them another second before he bolts to the window._

_“What in the world are you doing, jellybean?” Noya asks with a scoff._

_Bokuto scans up and down the street, then turns back. “The soldiers always run patrols up and down here at night. Daichi’s had to lay extra low. How’d you guys get in?”_

_“We’ve got skills now, Bo,” Tanaka replies with a flex of his bicep, which isn’t so impressive in the dark. “And Daichi doesn’t know we’re here.”_

_“Yeah, he’d totally flip,” Noya adds._

_Tanaka nods in agreement. “We’re here to see you.”_

_His face brightens and his worries quickly fade. “Really?” Maybe he’ll get to hear what exactly happened to them all those fifty-one days ago. He’s been running scenarios through his head every day since. He had feared they left him behind, yet here they are again, almost as if nothing’s changed. Maybe they’ll take him to the Crows, too. Maybe away from Daichi he’ll get a chance to join, too. They’d have to. Tanaka and Noya would help of course._

_“Really. Let’s get out of here first. Don’t want Daichi catching us,” Noya says._

_“We’ll tell you everything about everything,” Tanaka promises as he joins Bokuto at the window. He heaves it open with a muffled grunt. “Now, get some pants on and let’s go already.”_

**———**

“C’mon, c’mon!” Bokuto growls. He slams drawers open and closed. This is the second shop he’s hit and he’s worried if he doesn’t find something soon… “Fuck you,” he spits at a particularly hard to open drawer that ends up having nothing but rusted spoons. Finally, in the second to last drawer, he’s successful. It’s an old roll of duct tape, but when his standards are already so low, he can’t afford to be picky.

It’s only been a few hours, but hauling Akaashi all the way here has made it feel like days. Bokuto’s lucky that the next town they came to has a mall. He was hoping that he’d be more likely to find supplies, but so far he’s been turning up empty-handed.

He hurries over to where Akaashi lays. It’s like his heart hasn’t stopped thumping since they left the library and seeing Akaashi motionless sends all those scared feelings pouring back in. “I’m gonna flip you to your side,” he says, though he doubts Akaashi can hear him. Not waiting for a response, he carefully turns him over. Akaashi groans painfully, but other than that stays unresponsive.

Instinctively, Bokuto’s face scrunches up as he gently slides Akaashi’s shirt up over the wound. It takes a moment, the dried blood plasters it to his skin and he cringes at how its still damp, but that’s nothing compared to the wound he comes face-to-face with. Akaashi’s stomach is covered with blood, though he can still clearly see the hole torn through him. It starts bleeding more from being moved again.

“Shit,” Bokuto breathes as he stares at it. The words slithers out in a small hiss as he goes through his options. He can’t help but think back to the time he had treated another of Akaashi’ wounds. He had been so confident then. Thinking of it now, he hates himself for that confidence, mainly because he just doesn’t have it now.

Before Akaashi can lose more blood, Bokuto covers it with a hand towel he’d found earlier. It’s clean enough for the moment. He presses it to Akaashi’s stomach and immediately it soaks up the blood; however, the wound bleeds sluggishly, enough so that towel slows it down further.

Bokuto starts ripping off pieces of the duct tape he just found. It’s the best thing he’s scavenged so far that will keep constant pressure on the injury. He plasters the strips from the hem of Akaashi’s pants and across the towel as tight as he can and painstakingly works his way up. Only when he’s convinced that it will hold does he lower the shirt and jacket back overtop his poor excuse for a bandage. That will have to do for now, he thinks, rolling Akaashi onto his back again. He murmurs something between gasps, like he’s trying to catch his breath, but Bokuto can’t make it out.

“Okay, you’re good to go, for now,” Bokuto says as he stares down at Akaashi. “Now I just need to find something to stitch you up and we’ll be good. It’ll be just like last time.”

His positivity dies when he knows he won’t get a response. Instead, he gets to his feet. There’s no time to waste.

Slowly, he backtracks out of the shop, eyes never leaving Akaashi’s still figure. “I’ll be back soon,” he promises in a whisper, before bending down and lifting the garage door up. He lowers it back into place once he’s on the other side and releases it just before it can squish his fingers. Still, it’s too loud for comfort. At least it will keep Akaashi safe while he’s gone.

He takes the padlock out of his pants pocket and his numb fingers juggle with getting it locked on the garage door. It was a lucky find back when they were still with Kuroo and Kenma, only it didn’t have a key. Bokuto remembers when they found it. Kuroo had promised to teach him how to pick locks. But that obviously didn’t happen. Ever since, Bokuto had settled on teaching himself. He still wasn’t great, but if it came down to it, he could always just smash it open.

It’s the best he can do right now. Anything to be sure that Akaashi’s protected in this state.

“Hang in there until I come back,” he mutters to himself, pressing his forehead against the metal of the door, feeling the cold creep into his body. Only when he turns to start off does he see his breath puffing out for the first time. Truly being by himself for the first time lowers his defenses and he becomes aware of how cold he is.

Though he shivers, he tries to shake it off, wanting instead to think of the task at hand. Before he starts off, he should make a list of everything he needs. He tries calming down to think clearly, but his mind only has the opposite effect. It practically explodes with necessities that he’ll need to find. If he doesn’t, they could starve or freeze to death or Akaashi’s wound could get infected if not patched up properly or if he doesn’t find the right medicine. Or Akaashi could die and leave him all alone.

What would Akaashi do? he thinks dolefully, resisting the urge to sink to the ground.

He would keep a calm head and not worry about every little thing. He’d press on and urge Bokuto to do the same. He’d hold his hand and tell him everything will be alright. Just take the mall section by section. He’d have to move fast, but still take the time go through each shop carefully. He can’t risk missing anything important. He reminds himself that he has time, not a whole lot of it, but enough to do this right. Then maybe Akaashi would lean over and kiss him, tell him what a good job he’s doing, and he wouldn’t be as cold anymore.

Not helping.

Shaking his head at himself, he pushes that to the back of his mind. “Alright, Bokuto. So where to first?” He glances around. He’s not far from one of the mall’s plazas. There’s seating and a food court nearby. He already knows there are at least two floors. Maybe he should try upstairs first and work his way back down. His eyes land on a pair of escalators, unmoving with a bit of snow dusted on some of the steps from the cracked skylight above.

He needs medicine and anything he can manage into stitches, food since they’re running low, water, but snow will work if he gets desperate enough, and anything at all that will keep them warm. They could really use some winter clothes, but he’d settle for even a blanket at this point.

With his mind clearer than it was and a mental list made, he starts up the escalator, taking two steps at a time.

When he reaches the top, he makes a left, trusting the way instinct carries him. He’s in luck and he nearly cheers at making the correct choice. At the end on the corner is a pharmacy. Just what he needs.

The good and bad news however is that it’s gate propped open with a metal cart. There’s just enough room for him to enter, but that means others have been here before him. As he bends down to walk in, he hopes that no one’s here now and that maybe there might be something left for him to take back to Akaashi. He crosses his fingers, of the hand that doesn’t hold a gun, and continues forward.

With no lights leaking in, he has to uncross those fingers in order to take out his flashlight. He listens carefully before turning it on. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around. The single beam of light only helps in dampening his spirits when he shines it around. The shelves look cleaned out and the place looks completely trashed. He braces himself before starting at one end and work his way over the store to search every nook and cranny.

As he begins, the most he finds are empty pill bottles and boxes. “And what did you do with the pills?” he murmurs as he places one bottle back on the shelf, ignoring the temptation to throw it to the ground. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to keep the pills in the bottle?”

He moves on, annoyance burning in his stomach at how hopeless this place looks. Though it’s only his first stop, this could be his best and only chance at finding medical supplies. There may be nothing left after this.

Once he’s gone over the stalls, he moves to the counter. Maybe there’s something tucked away behind there. He jumps over and rips open the drawers as quickly as he can yet still with anxious excitement.

Nothing.

Completely empty.

Bokuto turns his attention to a door nearby. It must be a backroom. He tries the knob, but of course it’s locked tight. Up on his toes and peering through the window, he shines his flashlight. His eyes widen eagerly.

“A first-aid kit,” he breathes. He judges the distance from the window to the doorknob. Even if he were able to break it, he doubts he could reach the lock and knob on the other side. The window is too high up.

He turns away from the door and paces back and forth. What does he do now? He could look through the corpses and try to find a key to the room. His face scrunches up at the appeal. He just needs a key.

But wait. He doesn’t need a key for his padlock. He learned how to pick that. Or at least well enough. Maybe he could do the same thing with his lock. After all, the broken paperclip he uses is tucked safely in his backpack. He could make his own key.

The idea sends adrenaline pumping through his body with the excitement. He grins as he whips off his backpack and finds what he needs to pick the lock. Crouching down in front of it, he switches to hold the flashlight in his mouth and starts doing what he’s been practicing on the padlock. How much different could it be?

“Please work, please work,” he murmurs to himself. He switches which eyes he squeezes closed, trying to find the best way at looking at the lock, adjusting his head as well to direct his flashlight’s beam.

With only the clicking to keep him company, he feels like he squats there for hours. Too many times he feels like he has to start over. It seems hopeless.

Finally, he hears a click and nearly drops the flashlight. It bobbles precariously in his hands before he manages to get a grip on it. The door swings open and he tucks his paperclip back in place so he can find it later. He kneels down in front of the first-aid kit after having a brief glance around to be sure he’s alone. It creaks open and he winces at the noise.

His stomach drops and it takes a minute for him to find his breath again. The first-aid kit is empty. Not even a single bandage left for him. Someone’s cleaned it out long ago. He sinks the rest of the way to the ground. He’ll have to keep searching then. He’ll have to hope that there’s another pharmacy in the mall somewhere. He’ll have to keep hoping that he’ll find a way to save Akaashi.

And part of him says that there’s no doubt that Akaashi will be fine. He’ll come back to Bokuto and keep protecting him and saving him. He’ll do it because Bokuto can’t imagine him not being there, yet here he is sitting on the floor by himself doing whatever he can so that _he_ can save Akaashi this time.

But Akaashi’s conquered everything thrown at them so far. He’s ripped his bound hands free to stop a man from shooting Bokuto. He’s nursed Bokuto back to health when fever struck. He’s followed Bokuto jumping into that river that caused it even though he had said not to. Everything he’s done for Bokuto has verged on the impossible. It’s too much. He feels a wave of emotion flood over him as he realizes that’s the most anyone’s ever done for him. Even Daichi backed out on taking him to the Crows in the end.

With a great sniff, Bokuto runs the back of his hand over his nose and hauls himself to his feet. This is no time for getting overwhelmed. No matter what he thinks of Akaashi miraculously pulling through all this, his fate still rests in Bokuto’s hands, whether he likes it or not. It’s up to him and he can’t stand around here a minute longer.

A burst of energy courses through him and he runs out of the shop, ducking under the gate and heads into the next shop over, clinging to hope because he fears that’s the only thing he can do.

**———**

_“Quick! In through here!”_

_Bokuto squeezes through the window while Noya keeps it open. They land in a dim room that smells as foul as it looks. Noya lands beside them after gently allowing the window to fall closed. Bokuto wishes they could’ve kept it propped open, allow some fresh air down here, but he doesn’t argue._

_The room is filled with their panting since they’ve stopped to catch their breath. It isn’t easy running over rooftops, jumping down into alleys before scaling up another wall because another round of men on watch is passing by. Bokuto can’t even believe they’ve managed to get here unseen. He can’t believe they were able to sneak out of the compound, not only that, but clear across town. It’s been a very long time since he’s left the walls and now here he is again, on some dark rainy night that’s way too humid, but the thick air tastes amazing._

_Tanaka takes one last deep breath before he straightens and pats Bokuto on the back. “You did good,” he says with a grin. “Wasn’t sure you’d be able to keep up.”_

_“Really?” Bokuto asks through a breathy laugh. He still hasn’t caught his breath. “I’ve always been able to keep up with you guys.”_

_“It’s just a bit further now. We have to head up,” Noya says._

_They start up the stairs and now that they’re out of the zone without the guards on patrol unknowingly on their heels, Bokuto’s questions start bubbling up to his mouth again._

_“How’d you find the Crows anyway?”_

_“Well,” Tanaka starts._

_“We tailed Daichi one night,” Noya finishes, too excited to let Tanaka do the talking._

_Sighing dejectedly, Bokuto pouts. “Oh, and sorry I got grounded. I would’ve come, too.”_

_“Sorry, Bo,” Tanaka says genuinely and Noya nods as well._

_“It was either that night or we were never getting out of there.”_

_He can’t stay mad at them. He knows they’re right. They had planned for months and that was the perfect night. There was no going back._

_Letting it go, he forces himself to push on. “So you tailed Daichi.”_

_Noya nods. “Right, so he leads us to the outskirts of the district, right to the walls, and then bam! We were surrounded.”_

_“He knew all along that we were following him, hoping he’d take us straight to the Crows.”_

_“And that’s what he did. Sorta.”_

_“Anyway, so this other guy comes out. Sugawara.”_

_“He said to call him Suga or else, remember, Ryuu.” Noya lands a punch into his open fist. Then he continues to lead the way under the door. Tanaka and Bokuto follow quickly._

_“Yeah, well he basically says that Daichi told him a lot about us and how we wanted to be part of the Crows,” Tanaka says once they’re through. “Then, Daichi said we did a good job of following him and that if we were really committed we could sign on up.”_

_“But then he gave a big long lecture about how it’s not kids stuff and that it’s really serious and dangerous. You know how he is.”_

_Bokuto laughs and nods. The next room’s floorboards have been ripped apart, probably by some earthquake. It’s too far to jump, but Tanaka leads the way to the wall. There’s just a few inches of board still connected where they can shimmy across. Bokuto follows last._

_“The rest is history,” Noya finishes once they’ve safely reached the other side. He grins widely and it’s even bright enough to see in the dark._

_“But then why did you have to sneak around the house?” Bokuto asks. “I mean, if Daichi knows…”_

_Noya shrugs and says, “We’re supposed to be back at camp, not here. We snuck out. Couldn’t having him see us here.”_

_They continue up another flight of stairs, slowly working their way up to the top of the apartment building they’ve broken into. They’re careful, but there’s no sign of infected, or anyone else for that matter. Bokuto’s pleased, and it feels like old times again, sneaking around with Noya and Tanaka. Even if it can’t ever feel like it did before the outbreak, at least they bring some semblance of normalcy with them._

_Finally, the stairs open up to the roof and Tanaka waves them over to where a board connects rooftops. Bokuto grins, remembering the first time they found and set that board there so they could cross. It seems so long ago._

_“Careful, it’s a bit slick,” Tanaka says when he’s halfway across._

_From there, they climb down into the next building where the cement has collapsed, even though the rooftop stretches out before them. Bokuto remembers spending quite a few sunny days out here. It was always a great trip away from the compound._

_“So,” he starts again hesitantly once they’re out of the rain again and heading down another staircase. He’s been thinking about this since the day they left. It’s tough to say aloud now that they’re finally back with him. “Maybe I should join the Crows with you. I mean, that was the plan all along, wasn’t it?”_

_Sighing, Tanaka glances at him over his shoulder. “Bo, that’s the first thing we asked Daichi once they admitted us and we passed initiation.”_

_“He didn’t think it was a good idea, Bokuto,” Noya adds sadly. “We pestered him enough about it. We were afraid he was gonna send us back.”_

_Bokuto’s brows narrow angrily. “But why? Why not?”_

_“He didn’t say, but he was very insistent about it. He just said that he didn’t think you’d be a good fit,” Tanaka tries to explain._

_“Maybe he thought we’d get you into trouble,” Noya adds mischievously._

_“Or split up the troublemakers,” Tanaka adds with a more sour note to his voice._

_“Whatever,” Bokuto sighs. “I’ll prove it to him. One day.”_

_They travel again in silence and leave the staircase once they’re on the right level. Though Bokuto’s angry and wants to keep quiet for a bit longer, he can’t silence his curiosity._

_“What’re we doing here anyway?” He’s at least pleased that his voice shows a bit of his annoyance. He’s not really, not much, but he wouldn’t mind if Tanaka and Noya thought that he was a little pissed off. Maybe for a few minutes._

_“It’s a surprise,” Noya says and he and Tanaka exchange sneaky grins._

_This makes Bokuto get all huffy again. “Ah, come on, just tell me.”_

_“Can’t!”_

_“Is it,” Bokuto draws out, trying to think of something. “Is it an owl?”_

_“Not telling,” Tanaka calls back._

_Bokuto puffs his cheeks out. “If it’s an owl, I won’t be mad anymore.”_

_“Doesn’t matter, dandelion. Our lips are sealed.”_

_“If it’s an owl, I’ll be your friend again.”_

_Tanaka and Noya laugh at that and eventually Bokuto’s forced to join in._

_“Alright, it’s not an owl,” Noya admits, “but still pretty good.”_

_“We’ll see if it’s friendship renewal kind of good.”_

_“Deal!”_

**———**

Bokuto searches high and low through every shop he’s able to get into and without causing too much noise. He never thought he’d need the knack of breaking into so many places at once. At least he’s good at it. A lot of places that would be closed to others are open for him. Unfortunately, he’s not the only person able to break and enter and as successful as he is at getting in, there’s not much to be found. He’s dug into every drawer and cabinet and pocket of every corpse he’s passed. It’s only when he reaches another plaza on the opposite end of the mall does hope strike once again.

It’s a military helicopter, which he spots long before he’s even entered the area. It’s stuck in the skylights, shattering and bending them into new shapes ages ago. He guesses it might even be one from the outbreak. Maybe it was flying into town when it lost control and ended up here. The possibilities are endless, but so are the possible treasures that could await him inside. It has to have some medical supplies.

As he grows closer, he finds a body of a military man, dressed in uniform and sprawled on the ground. He’s nearly buried in snow from where it leaks through from the open ceiling. Bokuto’s lucky to spot him. He finds a smaller first-aid kit nearby. The man must’ve been carrying it to help someone when he died. Even though this one isn’t empty, it only has sutures inside. Very handy, but his heart aches for more. The more he finds, the more he can help Akaashi, the likelier that he’ll be okay.

He tucks it into his backpack and carries on. He doesn’t run into any more bodies, which can only mean they probably turned into infected. There’s no escaping a mess like that, he thinks, staring up to the precariously hanging helicopter. That means that he’ll need to start keeping a better lookout for any infected.

He moves further along the wreckage. Debris piles up everywhere and at some points he has to crawl between and under them with no way around. The helicopter certainly made quite a mess when it crashed. He keeps moving until he’s standing nearly right beneath the copter’s nose.

“Well, how am I gonna get up there?” he wonders aloud to himself.

He pauses to contemplate this and glances around the area. There’s nothing useful on the surface and he doesn’t see any more bodies around. As disturbing as they would be to find, bodies could at least be useful with what they carry, but he’s not digging through scrap metal and snow to look for something that’s probably not even there. The snow’s already a few inches deep here and falling harder. In some places it’s been blown into piles. It’s colder, too. He can feel the wind howling above him and it makes him shiver. He wishes he had heavier clothing, but he pushes that away. Medicine first, then go back to Akaashi, and then look for clothes. He needs to prioritize something and it has to be focusing on that wound and preventing infection.

He spares one last glance upward. The metal framework has peeled away and broken off where the helicopter intrudes. The skylights’ glass panels angle inward as well from the wreck. Such horrible damage. This could’ve been someone’s very last hope, but then it crashed and maybe people here who didn’t have to die did.

Looking away, he finds a nearby escalator that leads to the second floor. It might not take him right to the copter, but at least he’ll be another step closer. He scans along the next floor, looking for a way that will get him there and he finds it. At one point, near the end of the balcony, a panel of the old windows has fallen low enough. It seems like it’s still supported by the framing that’s bent all out of whack, but, with a slight jump, it puts the helicopter within reach.

In the distance he hears infected for the first time. It’s hardly a surprise. He’s been expecting to hear them at some point. Of course they’d be here. At least they’re not close, but it’s worth noticing where they are. Though an icy hand seizes Bokuto’s heart, he forces his legs to carry him fast, but doesn’t sacrifice stealth for speed. He doubts they scent him yet. He’ll just have to get this done quickly and then start heading back to Akaashi. If only the infected weren’t right between them. He’ll think about that after he’s gotten into the helicopter safely.

However, doing that with infected breathing down his neck is unnerving and he feels himself tremble at the thought of being trapped alone with a horde of them.

Trying to ignore them, he takes the unmoving steps two at a time, but nearly slips from the ice that’s formed from being exposed much more to the elements. He hangs on to the railings and pulls himself the rest of the way up, stepping carefully.

There’s no time for hesitation. He sprints down to the corner. The railings have been torn off long ago and there’s a brief moment to remember the library’s railings and how they couldn’t support Akaashi before he fell. Bokuto might fall just like him. These thoughts fall away as he takes a small hop up onto the big windows. He doesn’t pause there. The entire structure creaks and trembles beneath as he makes quick little steps closer to the helicopter.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he breathes, he can’t help it, though the situation begs for silence. Each word leaves his mouth with a puff of frozen breath.

There’s a slight stretch of metal that he balances across before launching himself in to the helicopter. He doesn’t have the time to line up his shot, he just pushes off as hard as he can manage without slipping and crashes in. It rocks beneath him and he freezes. The entire helicopter falls forward slightly from the sudden additional weight, tossing his body into the air and crashing roughly back to the floor. It lurches forward. He clings to whatever he can find, a bar connecting a seta to the ground, locking both arms around it while the craft resettles.

Finally, it stills. It feels like it should be doing a nosedive right about now, but no. It’s still sitting pretty amongst the windowpanes, just moved a little closer to the edge now, thanks to Bokuto.

He hangs very still for a moment longer, scanning the floor his face is pressed against. The infected have definitely heard him now, he’ll have to be quick here and move on. But there, nestled in with the dead pilots’ feet, is another first-aid kit. He carefully raises himself into a crouch, making sure he won’t send the helicopter falling again and with painstaking slowness, he slinks closer to the front of the helicopter.

The snow is falling even worse now, big clumps of it, too. It manages to find it’s way in. His hands are numb and he has to settle himself down to try opening the kit. His fingers fumble and he tries to warm them with his breath that hardly feels warmer than the stinging winds.

His heart drops, almost as much as jumping into this crazy beast. Fully stocked and he can’t believe his luck. Needles, stitches, everything! He clings to it, holding it close to his chest. He feels like he might as well be holding Akaashi’s own life in his hands. If anything were to happen to it…

“Oh, Akaashi. You’re gonna be okay,” he mumbles, feeling sick with relief and a choked feeling in his chest. “You’re gonna be okay, I swear.”

**———**

_They travel down even more stairs. These are darker and definitely a lot grimier than the others. They’ve never seen the light of day and definitely haven’t seen a janitor in five years. Bokuto wrinkles his nose spotting a nice patch of mold growing on the ceiling. He flicks his flashlight away to focus back on the stairs._

_“So, what’re we doing all the way down here?” he asks. “We’ve never been this far before and I’m doubting—or at least I’m hoping—that your surprise isn’t in the boiler room.”_

_Tanaka laughs at him. “I promise your surprise isn’t in the boiler room.”_

_“Remember how we thought they only kept parts of the city powered?” Noya says, addressing Bokuto’s question. “Well, that’s what we’re showing you and it’s only part of your surprise.”_

_They come to a stop next to a generator. A bunch of the metal boxes line the wall. That’s what must’ve powered the entire mall once._

_Taking the end of his flashlight, Tanaka brings it down hard on the tiny lock that’s over the box. It breaks off easily from the rust and Tanaka opens the door._

_“The whole city has power actually. The military just doesn’t tell you. They flip it all off.”_

_“Sure it’s to conserve energy or whatever,” Noya continues, “but why not have some fun for a night, eh?”_

_Bokuto grins. “You mean we can have electricity for as long as we want? No timed showers or one hot dinner once a week?” he asks excitedly._

_Both Tanaka and Noya nod at him happily._

_“We found it the last time we were down here,” Tanaka says._

_“And I wasn’t,” Bokuto says slowly. “Because I was—”_

_“Grounded again,” Tanaka and Noya say in unison, sharing a knowing look between them. “You sure have a knack for that,” Noya continues._

_“You’re like the expert of pestering Daichi,” Tanaka says._

_“And it’s like you enjoy pissing him off.”_

_“You get under his skin.”_

_Sighing dramatically, Bokuto allows his shoulders to slump. “I know,” he whines, hanging his head. “He hates me.”_

_Noya flings his arm around Bokuto’s shoulders, having to go up on his tiptoes to do so. “Nah he doesn’t, cricket blossom. He just doesn’t like when you get all loud. Gives him a headache I think.”_

_“Cricket blossom,” Bokuto repeats, scrunching up his face. “But that doesn’t even—”_

_“Anyway,” Tanaka starts, changing the subject. “Here, you do the honors.” He gestures toward the big switch._

_This makes Bokuto smile. “I don’t think it’ll work, but here goes nothing.”_

_He throws the switch and, after a few seconds of flickering, the lights shine on, giving a slight buzz to the room now that the power’s running again._

_“Let there be light!” Noya cheers while Tanaka gives a wild whoop and slams Bokuto hard on the back with his hands._

_They head back up the stairs at an eager run, pushing each other out of the way and laughing. There’s no fear, like there always is day in and day out. It’s fun and happy and there’s light coming under the door at the end of the hallway. Bokuto sprints forward and slams into it, bursting into the plaza. Tanaka and Noya let him take the lead._

_It’s the same room he had seen moments, only now it’s flushed with light, or at least the light of whatever bulbs still work. Still, it’s enough to transform the mall into a completely different world. The plant life gleams and there’s just so much more color to everything. A merry-go-round that he had overlooked dozens of times under the creeping vines in the dim light and dusty air, now flashes and sparkles and he gasps and oohs and ahhs. He hasn’t seen a spectacle like this—well he can’t remember. It’s almost overwhelming. Tanaka and Noya catch up to him in the doorway._

_“Impressive, right?” Tanaka asks, jabbing him playfully in the ribs._

_Bokuto jumps out of his stupor and bats Tanaka’s hand away. Despite the gesture, his voice shows his awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Its—it’s amazing!”_

_He goes to run off toward the plaza center and the merry-go-round, but he stops. “What about the military though?” he asks, turning back around. “Won’t they still see all this from the walls?”_

_Noya shakes his head. “Nah, you think we’re stupid? Of course we scoped it all out before showing you. No danger here. The outside lights don’t work. We’re practically invisible, so don’t worry. Perfectly safe.”_

_Letting a pleased laugh bubble out of him, Bokuto runs off again. He zigzags between the horses along the polished wood that’s not quite as polished as it once was. It’s warped and has weeds poking through the cracks and the horses he trails his hands across have chipped paint, but he doesn’t mind. The lights still reflect off them and it’s beautiful. Nothing has looked like this since before the outbreak._

_He swings around one of the once golden beams surrounding the ride before jumping off to head back over toward Tanaka and Noya._

_“So what’s next?” he asks, breathless from all the running and excitement._

_Tanaka and Noya grin at each other before grabbing his hands and towing him off. They head deeper into the mall._

_Further along, Bokuto skids to a stop, ripping his arms away from Tanaka and Noya’s grip._

_“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Bokuto cries. “Okay, wait! The escalators work?”_

_Noya jumps to bump into Bokuto, causing him to almost fall flat onto his face. “I know! How cool is that!”_

_“If you two were so easy to please, we should’ve just made riding up and down the escalators all night the surprise,” Tanaka says, shaking his head at the two._

_Bokuto whirls around to face him. “Can we? We can do that, right?”_

_Snorting, Tanaka ushers them both onto the moving staircase. “Well, maybe not all night,” he says, “and the down one’s not even working so—”_

_They near the top and before Tanaka can finish, Bokuto and Noya jump off to run down the broken escalator. They’re one their way up a second time, high fiving all the way, and Tanaka hasn’t moved an inch._

_He does however watch and laugh when they run up a third time, taking both the up and down escalators at a run._

_“It’s so much faster!” Bokuto exclaims. “I’d forgotten that!”_

_But when they run off from a sixth time, Tanaka manages to grab both of them by their collars. “Okay, I wasn’t serious when I said all night!”_

_“Aw, Ryuu, one more time?” Noya pouts._

_Bokuto joins, knowing Tanaka won’t be able to stand up to double puppy eyes._

_Finally he groans, releases them, and massages the bridge of his nose. “We’ve got plenty of other things to see, but fine, once more,” he says. “One exception though.”_

_Both Bokuto’s and Noya’s heads cock to the side. “What?” they ask._

_Tanaka shoots them a sneaky grin. “I’m coming, too! So don’t leave me behind this time!”_

_There’s a beat of silence, before all three of them sprint down the escalator, pushing and shoving and nearly falling on their faces. They do trip up at the end and land in a big pile. It doesn’t take long to untangle limbs and scramble to their feet. They all laugh on the ride back up._

_When they move away from the escalators, Bokuto spots a big neon sign to an arcade. He stops, at a loss for words, his mouth hanging open._

_“Surprise!” Tanaka and Noya cheer._

_Bokuto doesn’t think they’ve ever been to this part of the mall since the outbreak. If they had, he surely doesn’t remember seeing the arcade. Or maybe he has seen it in their past visits. Maybe looking too closely at how dead it looked inside reminded him too much of their trips here after school, how it used to be brimming with light and colors and people and the pounding of buttons and noises of the games. And maybe that’s why they’ve never stopped before tonight._

_It’s not quite like that now, but it is powered back up, like a ghost from the past, ready for one last visit._

_“This is what you guys wanted to show me?” he asks hesitantly. “Why you wanted to power up the entire mall?”_

_“We’re not sure if the games will even work, but we thought it’d be one hell of a blast from the past, huh?” Noya replies._

_Bokuto fakes wiping a tear away, but the sentiment is real. “This is the best surprise ever!” he cries, launching himself at his two friends until the fall over again._

_“Ew, bro! No kisses!” Tanaka yells as he’s taken under._

_“I’m not even kissing you.”_

_“Um, a little help?”_

_“Unless you want me to!”_

_“No way, Bo! Gross!”_

_“You two are a lot heavier than you look!”_

_Noya’s outburst finally gets the other two to their feet and leaning down to help him up as well. Bokuto mutters an unabashed apology, eyes drawn back to the arcade. Forcing himself to wait for Noya to crack his back at being crushed under them, Bokuto casts and antsy glances inside at all the games._

_“Sheesh, you guys are heavy,” he gripes while rubbing the back of his neck._

_“Can we go now?” Bokuto asks, practically jumping at the chance to go charging off again._

_“Hell yeah!” Noya says and pushes past Bokuto to get the games first._

_“No fair!” Tanaka cries and he and Bokuto tear after him._

**———**

The copter’s not too far from the ground. With the first-aid kit safely tucked away in his backpack, Bokuto takes a deep breath before jumping over the edge. He hits the ground, knees buckle, and he rolls forward. He pants quietly and in the following silence he hears the infected growing closer.

He starts running away when gunshots stop him dead in his tracks. They’re mixed in the infected garbles and guttural cries. Clearly not unrelated. Both infected and humans all trapped in an enclosed space, definitely not a good mix. Especially not when they’re directly between Bokuto and Akaashi.

Clutching his backpack’s straps tightly, he pushes forward. He’ll have to try and sneak past them. It’s not long before all the noise is right on top of him. It happens suddenly and surprises him. He thought they were still a ways off. Quickly, he slides into an open shop, putting the wall at his back, praying no one will find him.

Is it too much to ask that they take themselves out? he wonders in his head.

He hears a man cry out and the thump of a body hitting the ground. He peeks out to see two infected on top of the man and another shooting a bow and arrow at them while they devour his companion. Horrified, Bokuto watches as one breaks from his new meal to lunge at the man and sink his teeth into his neck, ripping his throat out.

Bokuto whirls away too late and the sound of blood and the feasting infected follow him. He hears the bow skid across the ground and land nearby. He stares at it out of the corner of his eyes. What he could do with a silent weapon. Maybe he can wait the infected out. Or maybe he’ll hide here for hours, hearing them eat, until they finally catch his scent and find him next for dessert.

Before he can decide between staying and fleeing, more gunshots fire off further down and along the left wing of the mall. He can hear the infected pause in their chewing, then the patter of their feet, and they’re gone.

He sighs in relief and while the noise carries on in the distance, he steps out and picks up the bow. A few arrows are scattered around as well. He even yanks one out of a lifeless infected. It’s the only one they managed to put down.

Luckily for him, he turns right at the intersection to make it back to Akaashi. He’ll let the humans and infected kill themselves. He turns his back on it, his skin crawling.

He feels a bit lighter, but the infected here weigh on his shoulders. So does the idea of another group in the area. They’ll keep each other occupied, he hopes. Then it’ll be clear in a few hours and he’ll be able to head out again, or maybe even move on, find winter clothes and food elsewhere, if Akaashi’s fit to travel again.

But he can’t even think that now. He’s gotta make sure he’s okay, that no one else—the other group or the infected—has found him.

**———**

_Despite the excitement, all the machines are broken. Some don’t even light up with the power back on, but those that do only display blue screens or snowy static. Through their disheartenment, they pour over the images on the outside of the games. Point out favorite character and then rush over when they spot one of their all-time favorite games._

_They push buttons and fake play. There’s a racing game and they stand before a blank screen and hit buttons until the clicking numbs their ears. They agree Noya earns the victory with his scarily fast button-pushing skills. Plus he always won before. And as always Tanaka vows to get his revenge one day. And then they play again._

_They take turns at single player games, the two not playing describing the carnage in immense detail, as much gore and blood as possible._

_“Ooh!” Bokuto croons, leaning over Tanaka’s shoulder to gape at a blue screen. “You completely ripped his spine out! And now you’re lassoing it around your head! Badass!”_

_“And don’t forget to save the chick!” Noya chimes in. He’s on Tanaka’s other shoulder. “She’s in the castle, you know, smoking hot, silky black hair, nice ass—”_

_Tanaka opens an eye. “I’m supposed to be imagining this?”_

_Huffing out a long sigh, Noya rolls his eyes. “Oh that’s right, I forgot you’ve never seen anything that gorgeous in your entire miserable life.”_

_“Oh get on with it,” Tanaka grumbles, closing his eyes again, hands ready on the controls._

_“But watch out!” Bokuto yells right into his ear, making Tanaka flinch away. “They brainwashed her to kill you! Surprise boss fight!”_

_They cheer as Tanaka presses odd combination of buttons until he finally stops, looking up expectantly, victorious, breathing hard._

_“Ah, too bad. She straight up murdered you, Ryuu,” Noya says with a sympathetic pat on the back. “Cracked her pointy heels straight into your skull.”_

_Tanaka’s face falls. “Wait, what?”_

_This sends Noya and Bokuto into a mad fit of laughter, clutching their aching sides._

_“Ah, man!” Noya wheezes. “She destroyed you!”_

_“Too bad not literally though,” Bokuto says with a wink and a nudge at Tanaka. “Noya made her your type.”_

_“Nah, he’s into a dude this time, cucumber bits.”_

_“What?” Bokuto stares open mouthed at Tanaka. “Since when do you have a boyfriend?”_

_Tanaka glares at both of them with a very red face. “It’s not like that,” he mumbles, not nearly as angry as Bokuto had been expecting. Almost a little embarrassed._

_”Dude—” Noya plants his hands on his hips “—when you’re sneaking off into broom closets after curfew to make out, you can’t say it’s not like that.”_

_“Shut up,” Tanaka says with a lack of a better argument, but then his tone turns teasing. “You only know about that because you were heading there to do the same with your new boy-toy.”_

_Noya’s face turns just as red. “Asahi’s not—I mean—so what!”_

_Laughter bursts from Bokuto’s mouth and the two turn to look at him, nearly forgotten in their little dispute. “You couldn’t have shared?” Bokuto gets out between giggles._

_Tanaka’s face flushes again and he looks at his feet. “There, uh, wasn’t enough room.”_

_Noya, too, has the decency to look at least slightly ashamed, but he also fights the urge to laugh. “Plus Suga nearly caught us.”_

_“That would’ve been awful, man.”_

_There’s a few seconds before they all burst out laughing again, unable to hold it in. Noya hangs off of Tanaka’s shoulders, practically crying against him with how much he laughs. Bokuto wipes away a fake tear._

_“You two are growing up so fast,” he says with mock pride in his voice._

_They laugh a while longer. It’s hard to come down from such a high, especially when just about anything sets them off howling again._

_When they’ve all calmed down, Tanaka looks to Bokuto. “So,” he starts, dragging it out. “Good?”_

_Bokuto gives him a quizzical smile. “What do you mean?”_

_“Are we good?” Noya says for both of them and Tanaka nods. “Are we okay?”_

_“We just left you, Bo, and we’re sorry,” he says. “We wanted to make it up to you—if we could.”_

_Sighing, Bokuto feels the smile fall from his lips. This sobers the mood quite a bit. “Well it is my fault our plans got screwed up.”_

_“No it’s not,” Tanaka says forcefully, “and we’re sorry we didn’t wait.”_

_“It’s okay,” Bokuto says in a quiet voice, almost too quiet. He clears his throat and throws that smile back on his face. “It’s no owl, but this has been great. It’s okay.”_

_He sees their shoulders sink in relief and watches their smiles come back to life. He drags them over to one of his favorites and makes them narrate while he mans the controls._

_It’s all too perfect, too bright and too happy. Too much laughter. Too pure of a moment. Despite the broken machines surrounding them, it’s too much like it was before the outbreak. Despite them being the only ones in the entire mall, they could be on their way home from school, stopping to spend the money they’ve saved until there’s nothing left or until the owner kicks them out for being too loud, too rowdy. It would seem there’s no one to stop them this time. They could spend hours, no parents to return home to, nothing except Daichi needing to find Bokuto in bed when dawn comes._

_The cries and the screeches and the shuffling almost go unheard, but to two—almost—trained Crows, they hear it immediately. No matter how far in the past they seem to be, no matter the years traveled back in a moment, instincts kick in. The infected don’t belong back in those memories. And they can stop a party worse than any arcade owner._

_Tanaka is the first to hear them. He cuts off midsentence and the others know right away from the look on his face._

_The infected aren’t far off, just outside the arcade. It’s clear they’ve certainly heard them first, from a long ways off probably and tracked them down._

_And they don’t creep in unsure. They’ve heard the yells and laughter echo throughout the mall. The run through the games, running into some, nearly toppling them over, but they’ve locked on the three and nothing will keep them from their next meal._

_There’s no time to react._

_There’s just the pale look on Tanaka’s face and the swoop of Bokuto’s stomach and Noya clutching both of their sleeves, pulling them back, tumbling, trying to get their feet under them._

_And Tanaka whips out his gun to fire a round off and Noya pulls his out as well._

_And Bokuto somehow manages to get his switchblade out, but it trembles in his hand. His heart pumps too hard, too fast. He’s not sure what he’s afraid of more. The infected certainly, but he’s never been so close to a gun before and when it fires—_

_He yelps and the blade drops from his hand._

_“Leave it!” Noya shouts when he struggles to go back for it. He pulls Bokuto along after him, firing again over his head._

**———**

His fingers tremble at Akaashi’s neck. He can barely hold them still to check for a pulse, but it’s there. It’s the third time he’s checked since his return. His breath of relief billows out in the freezing air. Other than being cold, Akaashi seems okay. The bleeding has nearly stopped as well. He pulls out his findings and gets to work, ready to bloody his hands again.

He’s already removed his poor patch-up job from earlier and now holds up the threaded needle and hesitates. “We’ve done this before, remember?” he asks, feigning cheerfulness. “We’re experts. Plus this time we have a real needle for stitching. So it’ll be even better than last time.”

Except he’s stitching up an entire hole ripped through Akaashi’s body, Akaashi’s not really there to be that comforting presence, and a whole lot more could go wrong. Worse of all, it reminds Bokuto too much of when he used to stitch himself up alone.

**———**

_Bokuto flies onto the back of a monster chomping through air toward Noya’s face. He pounds his fists into its head until the other boy can shoot it down. He then turns the gun to help Tanaka who’s been back into a corner. With both of their backs turned, they don’t hear more coming up from behind._

_As Noya yells out and more gunshots sound, Bokuto feels himself being pulled down. He feels them clawing at every part of him. Their fingernails leave angry scratches and pull at his hair and when their teeth find exposed skin, they sink right in. He forgets for a second what a bite means, his mind fogged by fear and by how much it fucking hurts._

_Before they get the chance to devour him, their bodies still and, after another moment, they’re pushed off. Tanaka and Noya gaze down at him with wide, terrified eyes, stunned. There’s no hiding a bite, not when you’re bitten all over. He expects they’ll leave him here or maybe he expects he’ll pipe up and tell them to go on ahead, maybe he’ll hold a few off? Not likely._

_But none of that happens. They stare at each other, the two standing ragged with their guns out, pointing near him at the infected who are already dead, and Bokuto still lying on the ground._

_Only the sounds of more on the way get them into action. Tanaka lifts Bokuto to his feet. He’s too stunned to be much help._

_“We have to get out of here,” he says with bulging eyes and stuttered words and he pushes Bokuto ahead of him and they’re off sprinting again._

_They continue through the mall, breaking for the exit. It’s still lit with power, but also with the sun’s light as it emerges over the horizon. It used to look so cheerful in here, but now all Bokuto sees is a death trap they’ve fallen right into._

_Tanaka and Noya keeps shooting over their shoulders until they run out and Bokuto leads around corners and circles back when more infected cries meet them._

_But after running forever, they near an exit, sunlight shining promisingly through the windows. It’s not the way they came in, but it’ll do now._

_They rush outside with no time to take in the fresh air or feel the cool breeze on their skin. Noya bars the doors with his back, arms spread wide, while Tanaka and Bokuto push a long dead car over from the parking lot. It blocks the doors, though the infected continue to bang to get out, throwing their bodies until normal ones would have broken. Collectively holding their breath, the wait for the car to move, but maybe they get a break. The car holds true and doesn’t budge an inch._

_“Bokuto,” Tanaka gasps hoarsely._

_They don’t even get a second to calm down._

_And Bokuto doesn’t look, staring at a bloody hand instead. He feels their eyes on him where his clothes are damp and red with blood. He feels their sting and, mentally, he takes count. They’re on his left leg. One on his ankle, another further up. He finds another on his arm, above his elbow. And then there’s the one he can’t stop looking at. Vaguely, he remembers holding it up to protect his face and how one of those monsters had sat there gnawing on it. It’s on his right hand, stretching around the outside of his wrist. He runs fingers over it, spreading the blood around._

_He bites his lip and rubs at it again, this time harder. If only it’d smear away like the blood and wash off, too._

_It’s in him and if that’s the case, would he become a monster like them?_

_I’m going to do, and those are his first thoughts. I’m going to have to pick up one of those guns and fire it for the first time, straight into my face._

_“Me too.”_

_And Bokuto and Tanaka look around to seeing Noya holding up his hand. Sure enough, there’s a bite right between his thumb and forefinger. He falls to sit on his butt._

_And Nishinoya is going to die._

_“Then I guess there’s no point in telling you guys to go back without me then, is there,” Tanaka says dryly, settling himself next to Noya._

_And Tanaka is going to die._

_Bokuto focuses enough to see the blood on his shoulder and the hole and the chunk bitten out of him there._

_He stumbles forward, but can’t seem to unlock his knees to allow him to sit. “What—” he croaks, but Tanaka interrupts, reaching up to pulling him to the ground. Bokuto feels his knees give way. “What do we do?”_

_“You know our options,” he says gently and all eyes turn to the gun in his hand. “It’s quick, but I mean…well, I’m not a fan of that option.”_

_“Maybe we can fight it,” Noya says, sounding like he doesn’t believe those words for a second, but Tanaka nods along encouragingly._

_“Sure,” he tries to get out in a not completely hopeless voice._

_“But we’ll turn into one of those things,” Bokuto interjects, gesturing toward the door that still shudders with infected, all too close and far away at the same time. “I don’t want to be a monster!”_

_“No, that’s not it,” Tanaka says, more convinced of himself now. “We fight because we’re together—together again—and every second after this that we remain so. We don’t use this—” he waves the gun “—because I wouldn’t want to be apart from you guys one moment less than I get.”_

_“I wouldn’t want to wait it out with anyone else but you guys,” Noya says and, for once, neither of them calls each other out on their sappiness._

_Bokuto stays silent until he can’t any longer. “Is there an option three?” he asks._

_Tanaka gives a sad shake of his head. “No,” he mutters. “Not for us.”_

_They sit in silence, staring at each other, eyes continuing to draw toward the bites._

_“Let’s blow this popsicle stand,” Noya says at last, pushing himself to his feet, no spring in his step like always. He casts one last look at the mall and its infected inhabitants before turning away._

_Tanaka does the same and then down at Bokuto before catching up with Noya._

_But Bokuto stays put for a second longer. He glances over at them and then back at the mall’s doors that hide the infected on the other side. He stares and stares and rubs his fingers over his bite and he wonders what it’ll be like to lose his mind._

_No, he thinks, give me the gun. Let it be the gun. I’ve made peace with death before. I’m not afraid of it now. Not when it means I might be trapped inside when the monster takes over. No one knows if you’re there or not when the virus takes over. I can’t live like that. I can’t live forever in my own head. Alone. Give me death and the uncertainty of what comes next. Rather that than to be stuck here a monster._

_But he turns to follow the other two. He’s the reason why they’re here, why they got into this mess. He owes it to them to stay by their side until their last seconds count down to zero._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a fun chapter to write (for the obvious fun reasons). It's great to be able to bring some playfulness back to the story. Thank you as always for the amazingly kind comments and kudos. Your support means everything to me.
> 
> Looking to the next chapter, it might take just as long to update. I'm leaving tomorrow for vacation out of the country so that means no wifi. That also means I'll be silent for that week, but I look forward to coming back and hearing any comments! That's also why I was pushing so hard to get this chapter up and ready.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading :)
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](silentmarco.tumblr.com)
> 
>  
> 
> [Title Song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndtQ6ReXO-s)


	14. Atlas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Briefly before we start, thank you all for being patient with me on vacation. It's still a little later than I would've liked it since I got sick, but it's here nonetheless :) Also, another quick note, this chapter also changes POV. It's fairly clear, but you'll understand as you read.

_January, 2021_

Snow crunches underfoot and Bokuto draws in an icy breath as he pulls the bowstring back to his mouth. The fingers of his gloves have been cut out to help him aim, but that means that his fingers feel the harsh bite of winter. With the string taut against them, they sting. It’s the only thing keeping them from going completely numb.

Relaxing his grip, he takes a moment to shake out both hands before setting up his shot again. The rabbit’s a scrawny thing, but he’ll take anything these snowy days. He hasn’t gotten much farther north, but the snow has certainly found them. The drifts pile up and he must stomp his way through the woods every morning if they are to eat.

A single breath, arm out straight, and he pulls back, eyes on the prize. The bow doesn’t strain his shoulders anymore. He’s gotten used to it through practicing over and over. All the days returning empty-handed helped the lessons stick. Nothing motivates more than a growling stomach.

The rabbit takes a few hops before lifting up on its hind legs to nibble at a bush. Bokuto waits, eyes open. He checks his stance. Then, releases.

There. Straight through the neck with a thud and he has to resist the urge to cheer. He can count the number of kills on one hand so this is a victory. He’s already been stretching the supplies too thin. If he doesn’t find a place with food soon, he’ll be relying entirely on his hunting. That idea scares him, makes him wake at the crack of dawn to keep getting better. No food, end of the line.

Sighing, he crunches over to pick up the rabbit. A good tug pulls the arrow free and he ties the rabbit to a belt loop. He looks around while he cleans the arrow off. It’s mid afternoon now and the snow has started falling heavily around him. It’ll cover any tracks soon. Keeping an eye out for any movement, he heads toward a couple of rocks that make a good vantage point. He’ll search for a bit longer, until his hands feel like they’ll fall off, and then he’ll head back. He doesn’t want to miss anything that could possibly mean more food.

He crawls to the top of the rocks on his belly, then freezes. There’s movement, and he has to scan the area again to find it. It lifts its head and he sees the buck. It’s a good size and a gasp escapes his lips in wonder. As beautiful as it is, it’s even greater to realize what this could mean for his stomach in the days to come. This could last a week. Maybe more. It’s exactly what he needs right now.

Knowing that standing up here will only draw it’s attention, he slowly slides his way back down. It’s painstakingly slow, but he doesn’t want to risk any more noise startling the buck away. If it runs now, he’ll never be able to find it in this wood.

He circles back around the rocks and locates it again. It hasn’t moved far, digging through the snow down to the grass with its nose. He puts an arrow to his bow and draws it back.

“Hang on there, beauty,” he breathes, before releasing.

In a flurry of snow, the animal cries out and runs off, but Bokuto knows it’s been hit. His eyes light with victory. A panicked animal will be much easier to track. Plus there’s the blood. He hurries over to the spot it had been hit. He’ll start here. It couldn’t have gone far.

The injured buck leads him through the trees, great pines with snow weighing down their branches. He’s never seen so much snow before, but it’s not like he’s had much time to sightsee. He follows it where the buck’s blood splatters it red and where it’s been kicked up and scattered.

He tries to keep his movements silent, but he’s too eager and hungry for this hunt to end. Crows squawk and fly out of the trees hearing his approach. He hasn’t tried shooting one, he doesn’t dare. It’s not worth the lost arrows. He gets closer and closer to the buck, but it hears him and runs off again. Not that it has long to run. He just wishes it weren’t drawing him so far out.

He gets another shot in and it runs straight past him. If he had reached out in time, he probably could’ve touched it. And broken his hand.

There’s more blood now and it seems to have made its final sprint.

He climbs over the slope to find an old building, wooden and abandoned long ago, he thinks. Has he draws closer, he sees the windows have been punched out. He notches another arrow to his bow without thinking. Boards are even missing from the walls. He’s sure no one lives here and he’s sure his buck has come this way.

Closer, he finds it’s a large building and the only way through an iron-linked fence that cuts through the trees. There’s no door and the middle of the roof’s collapsed. Still, seeing a building clear out here makes him think people are around. He can’t help it, even in these times of abandoned cities, you never know where someone will show up. Even in a dump like this. It just might be somebody’s last hope. He’s been there enough times to know what that feels like.

On the other side, he finds where his buck has finally decided to die. Two of his arrows pierce it, one through the neck and one in the side. One’s broken, but he can definitely still use the other.

Before he has the chance to reclaim it, he hears something and it definitely doesn’t sound like an animal. He spins around, eying up his surroundings.

“Who’s there?” he calls, a no-nonsense voice, betraying none of his fear. He draws his bow and spots the figure taking a quick step behind a slender tree. It does nothing to conceal him. “Show yourself.”

Two men step out. More than he was expecting. The first shows his hands, a shotgun slung over one shoulder. Bokuto has the advantage now, but not if that guy gets his gun out fast enough. He’s outnumbered and his bow and arrow wouldn’t stand a chance to a gun.

“It’s alright, boy,” the first one says. He has an oily voice that makes Bokuto’s eyes narrow at him. “We just want to talk.”

Bokuto’s eyes shift over to the second man. He looks less inclined to talk as his companion suggests. If anything, he looks bored, which can either be good or dangerous. “What do you want?” he demands, shifting his aim between the two. “And don’t—don’t make any sudden moves. I’ll shoot you right between the eyes.”

He’s a decent shot, and fast enough, but he doubts he can hold true to his bravado. He better not have to prove it. He can’t shoot them both before one of them gets a shot in, too.

“I’m sure you can,” the man says with a chuckle, but still holds his hands up, which relieves Bokuto enough that he’s kept the upper hand. The man gives a slight bow. “I’m Daishou. This is my friend, Kuguri.” He straightens to motion toward his partner. “We have a larger group back in town full of women and children. It’s been a rough winter for us. We’re all very, very hungry.”

Bokuto glances uncertainly between them and quickly at the buck near his feet when he sees Daishou’s eyes on it. Bokuto has positioned himself over it, protectively. Quickly, he reassures himself to look back at Daishou. He hunted the buck and he might not have as many to feed as them, but he needs it just as badly.

“Me too,” he stammers out of numb lips. “Women. Children. Lots of ‘em.”

The two of them take a step closer and Bokuto swings his bow between them again, showing he still has a clear shot and he’s not afraid to take it. They stay where they are, though their hands are slightly lowered.

“Do you need anything?” Daishou asks. He’s trying to be friendly, but his voice sends chills over Bokuto’s skin, different from the winter winds. Maybe he really is trying to help, but Bokuto can’t get over a voice like that. “Maybe we can make a trade.”

Bokuto stays silent, trying to think. Does he need anything? Anything more than food? It’s so hard to think. It’s too cold. He’s been out too long.

“We have a lot to offer,” Daishou continues. He steps forward and Bokuto’s aim has lowered. “Weapons, clothes—”

“Medicine,” he blurts out, the fog on his mind lifting. “Any antibiotics?”

“Yes,” Daishou answers slowly, glancing at Kuguri. “You could come back with us and—”

Bokuto steps forward, careful not to trip, his bow raised again. “I’m not going anywhere with you two,” he says firmly. He glances at the two of them. He nods to Kuguri. “Your friend there—he can go get it. If he comes back with what I need, you can have the deer. All of it.” He swallows. “And if he brings anyone else—”

Daishou grins. “Right between the eyes, right?”

“Right,” Bokuto says, his voice soft. He doesn’t like being mocked and he can’t quite decide if he is.

Turning fully to Kuguri now, Daishou nods at him. “Get two bottles of the penicillin and a syringe. Quickly, please, Kuguri.”

Kuguri frowns and looks like he might object, but nods and turns away. Then it’s just Bokuto and Daishou and the howling winds that have picked up. Bokuto’s arms ache holding the bow, but he doesn’t dare loosen his grip.

“Your shotgun,” he says, nodding to it. “Bring it over here.”

With another smile, Daishou slowly removes it from his shoulder, walks over, and lays it at Bokuto’s feet, right at the belly of the deer. “Sure thing.” Bokuto’s arrow follows his movements carefully.

“Now back up,” he orders when Daishou doesn’t return to his place right away.

Hands raised, he does as he’s asked.

As soon as he’s far enough away, Bokuto hurriedly slips his arrow away and stretches the bow to fit snugly over his shoulder. He scoops the shotgun up, checks that it’s loaded, and aims the new weapon back at Daishou. It’s much easier to hold than the bow.

There’s a moment of silence and they stare at each other, Daishou’s faint smile never leaving his lips. He glances around.

Finally, he says, “You know, it might be a while. Would you mind terribly if we took some shelter?”

There’s another wooden shack nearby, this one holding together better than the one Bokuto had passed through earlier, though smaller. Daishou motions toward it. As much as Bokuto absolutely does not want to move from this spot, fearing what might happen, he knows he won’t be able to stand in one place like this for however long it might take for the other man to return. He thinks about it some more before he nods, giving in. He’d prefer not to have frostbitten fingers. He points the gun at the deer.

“Bring him with us.”

The wooden walls protect them from the winds and dropping temperatures now that the sun’s beginning its descent. Daishou starts up a nice looking fire. He struggled lighting it the first few times and it nearly pained Bokuto to stand idly by and not help. However, he knew he’d regret letting his guard down. He kept the shotgun trained on him the entire time and didn’t move an inch.

“You’re quite young still,” Daishou says at last after warming his fingers over the flames. Bokuto doesn’t allow himself that luxury. His hands stay firmly on his weapon. “You shouldn’t be alone out here.”

Bokuto shrugs, not having an answer for the man. He doesn’t look much older than Akaashi. Plus he has a small build and a sharp face. Surely Bokuto would look stronger out here than him, even if he is on his own. He sits down closer to the fire, gun at the ready in his lap.

“What’s your name?”

There’s no harm really, but still, Bokuto thinks, staring the man down. He doesn’t want to hear his name on the man’s lips. “Why?” he asks flatly.

“Forgive me,” Daishou says, inclining his head. “It’s hard trusting strangers these days. I know. You almost forget that, living in a large group. But perhaps I can prove that you can trust us?” He looks back up at Bokuto. “Of course, whoever is hurt is clearly important to you.”

Bokuto’s eyes narrow before they lower. He would never discuss Akaashi with this man, no matter how he’s helping. He’ll help Akaashi on his own. No need to get others involved. How can he trust someone to do that? No, these men will stay far away from Akaashi if he has anything to say about it.

“I’m sure it will work out,” Daishou says not unkindly with another one of his smiles.

Biting his lip, Bokuto shrugs. “Sure.”

Daishou nods as if he had said something that actually added to their one-sided conversation. “Everything happens for a reason,” he says. “I believe that. You see, you shot this deer and ran into us. We desperately need the food that you have and you desperately need the medicine that we have. See?”

Bokuto shrugs again.

“I’ll prove it again. This winter has been harsh, cruel even, much worse than any I’ve seen. We had to expand our search for food. So, a couple of weeks ago, I sent a group out. Only a few came back. They said—” Daishou’s eyes are far away, remembering, yet focused intently on the fire. “They said the rest were slaughtered. Some crazy guy—a demon—they said. Fell a couple of stories and stabbed clean through. Should’ve died, they said, but he continued killing my men, even after that. And of all things, he was traveling with this younger kid with—get this—hair just like yours only—” he runs his hands through his hair similar to the way Bokuto had last styled it when he thought he was finally going to meet the Crows.

Bokuto’s stomach drops as he remembers that day. That’s the whole reason he’s in this situation in the first place. And Daishou’s somehow related?

He smiles at Bokuto. “So, of course, everything happens for a reason.”

As if released by a spell, Bokuto scurries to his feet and regains his hold on the gun, pointing it once again at Daishou. This makes Daishou laugh, waving him off.

“Calm down, boy,” he says lightly. “It’s not your fault. After all, you’re just a kid.” There’s brief pause where their eyes lock, until Daishou’s slide behind him. “Relax, Kuguri.”

Bokuto gasps and spins around only to come face-to-face with Daishou’s companion and a gun aiming at his face. Those leveled eyes stare back at him and don’t leave when he speaks.

“They killed our friends, Daishou,” he murmurs darkly.

“Kuguri, lower—”

“Why?”

“Kuguri.” The word is sharp and much different than the voice he had been using with Bokuto. It makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand and, after a second, it makes Kuguri lower the gun.

“Thank you,” Daishou says, relaxed again from where he still sits next to the fire. “Give him what we promised.”

This time, Kuguri frowns, but doesn’t argue. He tosses a bag of something to the ground. “If the others hear—”

“That my problem,” Daishou replies dismissively.

Bokuto ducks to grab the medicine before he’s on his feet again, gun at the ready, though neither of them is pointing anything at him. He does however draw Daishou’s attention once more.

“You won’t survive long, my friend. This winter—” He shakes his head. “I can protect you, if you’d like.”

Bokuto scrunches up his face at the idea as he backs out of the room. He pushes the door to the shed open with his back. “Fuck that,” he mutters, before turning tail and running back the way he came.

**———**

After being sure the garage door is secure behind him, Bokuto hurries down into the basement. The door connecting it to the garage had been kicked down long before he found the place, but he props it back up each time he comes and goes if only to provide the feeling of security. It can’t even keep the cold out.

He’s greeted by silence.

“Akaashi?” he calls out softly. He moves to squat down to the ratty mattress he had dragged out.

There’s a grunt of response from Akaashi, followed by heavy pants. Bokuto watches his face scrunch up in pain.

“I only got a bit of food today,” he continues as he goes through his bag and lays out the rabbit from earlier. “Shoulda seen the deer I shot, but—” He pauses, looking troubled down at his hands, but then reaches in for the medicine. “It doesn’t matter. I got this instead.”

He holds the syringe and penicillin out, though Akaashi can’t see. All he gets these days are small noises out of him. Sometimes it even sounds like he’s responding, but Bokuto knows better. It’s been a long time since he’s had more than one-sided conversations with Akaashi. He swallows thickly and looks away.

Setting the medicine to the side, he reaches for Akaashi’s shirt. “Alright, let’s see how it looks.” Pulling it up reveals the dreaded wound. It’s stitched up to the best of Bokuto’s abilities, but still looks red, maybe a bit swollen. It doesn’t seem too bad, but he’s afraid infection might be settling in. As much as he wishes he hadn’t ran into Daishou today, he’s extremely grateful for the penicillin. It’s much needed.

He can’t tell how long it’s been. One day seems to bleed into the next. He’s busy, too. He has to be. One day spent holed up with Akaashi is a mistake he dare not make again. So Bokuto keeps moving, even though Akaashi can’t. He hunts, scavenges, anything he can to make sure they survive this. And they will. He’s sure of it. He just has to wait this out. Akaashi’s getting better, he knows he is.

Akaashi mumbles in his unconsciousness as Bokuto fills the syringe through the bottle. He checks to make sure the needle works, and it does. Although he feared he hadn’t, Daishou kept his promise.

“This is gonna hurt,” he says to Akaashi, before gently pushing the needle into his stomach. Akaashi chokes in pain, making Bokuto’s muscles clench. “Sorry,” he yelps. Is this what he’s supposed to do? He didn’t give himself the chance to second-guess. The antibiotics are in him now at least. That should do some good.

As he tucks the needle away into a safe place in his backpack, Akaashi starts to quiet down. A good sign, he hopes. He lowers his shirt and pulls the big wool blanket over him.

It might be warmer in the house, but that’s where anyone would expect them to be. At least here they’re partly hidden in the garage and there’s plenty of windows to wiggle out of, if worse comes to worse. Or maybe he just wasn’t thinking straight when they first came, but it can’t matter now. It’s too late to think of moving Akaashi yet.

He settles a hand on Akaashi’s forehead, then to his cheek. “I promise you’ll pull through this, Akaashi,” he whispers and he feels Akaashi turn his face into the touch.

Bokuto smiles down at him and snuggles in for a nap, using his backpack for a pillow. There’s not enough room on the twin-sized mattress. He’d end up pushing Akaashi off if he tried squeezing in and Akaashi needs to be as comfortable as possible. Bokuto settles for the hard cement and being close enough to hold onto Akaashi’s hand while he dozes.

**———**

When Bokuto wakes, morning’s gray light has brightened the small basement room. He’d normally sleep for a bit longer, but something’s not right. Looking to his right he sees that Akaashi is fine. He sleeps on, if you could call it sleep. Bokuto leans up on his elbows to figure out what woke him.

Men’s voices. They call back and forth to each other, muffled through the walls. But if he can hear them, that means they’re close. He guesses they’re out in the streets.

His eyes widen and he reaches instinctively for his backpack. The other hand that still holds Akaashi’s, tightens. He won’t be able to take him along. No, it’s safer of course if he stays here. Bokuto will just have to lead these guys away. Far away.

Stomach sinking as he stands, he knows that these men must belong to Daishou’s group. He doubts anyone else would be in the area. He dreads meeting that man again.

Bokuto climbs up on a desk that faces one of the high windows, peering out of its bottom corner. There’s a clear view to the street from here. He sees them. Just three from this angle and he quickly turns away. Back on the ground, he paces.

“That snake,” he mutters darkly. “He tracked me.”

Figures the snow would be nothing but problems. If only he’d had the sense to wipe away his tracks. He’d thought the snowfall would cover them. Apparently not. That’s how they’d found his neighborhood. At least there’s not much on the road and driveways. The snow hides which house he’s in. It’s not much, but he’ll take it. No use waiting around for them to figure out though.

Bending as he pulls on his backpack, he traces a hand over Akaashi’s chest, light like a feather. “I’ll draw them away from you,” he promises. “I’ll make sure they never find us and then I’ll be back.”

And then I need to think of a way to move us to a different town, he keeps to himself. It was hard enough getting Akaashi here, but maybe the antibiotics will work. Maybe he won’t have to be on his own much longer.

That’s wishful thinking. What he needs to do is solve the problem he has right now. That’s getting those men away from here.

With a nod to Akaashi, who’s none the wiser, Bokuto jogs up the steps back to the garage. From there, he lets himself out, making sure the door closes quietly. It takes him longer than usual to be extra sure it’s silent, but then he’s usually not being tailed.

At a crouch, he sneaks along the side of the house, ready to sprint to the cover of the next, not sure he’ll make it without being seen. He keeps his eyes glued on the men further down the street. If he can make enough tracks to confuse them, maybe they’ll move on. It’ll take all day to get rid of them, he knows it will. That’s a whole day of hunting. Oh well, this is more important.

Suddenly, he’s grabbed by the shoulders and lurched to the side. He gasps, the freezing air burning his lungs.

“He’s over here!” his captor calls, a different man from yesterday. “I got him!”

Bokuto flips the switchblade from his jacket pocket and, without turning, thrusts it upward in the direction of the man’s throat. He’s rewarded with a gurgling choke and the man’s hold loosening, his next call dying on his tongue.

Without wasting another second, he sprints down the road. Secrecy is gone. He’ll just have to get rid of them some other way.

A shot sounds over his shoulder and he ducks as he zigzags around a couple of trashcans.

“You know Daishou’s orders,” one yells from the other side of the road. “He wants him—”

“Fuck that!” Another shot fires, drowning out his words. “—him now!”

They’re everywhere, way more than just the three he saw originally. He circles behind houses and takes cover behind cars and one particularly helpful camper left in the middle of the street. Around one tight turn into a backyard, he runs smack into a guy, hard enough to fall on his butt. The other man’s surprise last a second longer and that’s enough for Bokuto to take a swipe at his ankles, slashing for the big veins, and diving the point into his neck when he drops.

They keep following and shooting wildly. The only thing keeping Bokuto from full-blown panic is knowing that they’re moving away from Akaashi.

“Yeah, that’s right!” he calls breathily over his shoulder. “Come and get me!”

He’s on the road leading away from the neighborhood now. Most of the shots are falling further away. He only hopes that they’ll go scurrying back to their group. Trees line the road to the right and to the left is a brief drop and a lake. He doesn’t know where to go other than keep sidestepping around car clogging the road. He wouldn’t dare try losing them in the woods, fearing he’d get lost himself and even if he could swim, the lake’s not an option with these temperatures.

Boots pounding on the asphalt behind him are a reminder that he needs to hurry. He steps off the road to the left, his best way at getting around these cars quickly. The wooden railing has fallen away here, and that makes him sweat. He keeps sprinting.

A lot closer than he expects, another gun fires off. How’d they get so close without him knowing? Another follows it almost immediately. It clips him in the shoulder. It’s just a graze, and it bleeds. It’s enough to unbalance him. He takes a blind step back and he feels the snow giving way under his weight. It crumbles and so does he.

His body thumps against stone and quicker than he imagined the drop to be, he hits the snowy ground. A small breath of relief rushes from his lips as he shuffles back against the rocks to avoid being seen and to help push himself to his feet.

It seems there was a small jump to this level then the sheer drop to the lake, not a long one, but deadly nonetheless. He’s landed safely though, it even looks like an old walking trail along the road. Further along, there’s a wooden walkway around the side of the cliff with steps leading back to the road. With a splintering railing, it looks less than safe, but it’ll do. It must’ve offered quite a view of the lake at one point. Bokuto can’t think of that now. He also can’t not think of the lake, but he can push it to the back of his mind. Those men are still after him.

He hurries along and then, pressing himself to the rocky face, he shimmies along the wooden boards. It’s as far away from the railing-less side as he can get.

“Don’t fall in, don’t fall in,” he whimpers under his breath, keeping his face lifted toward the sky to avoid looking down. “No water, not today.”

The boards creak, but they hold firm. He breathes easier as he climbs back to the road, until he feels a body press up behind him and an arm press around his neck in a chokehold. His blade is back out, but another hand is ready for that, too.

“Relax!” a voice hisses in his ear. “I’m keeping you alive. They’d shoot first ask questions later.”

The arm presses harder on his windpipe. His arm lowers involuntarily under the weight and lack of oxygen. It doesn’t feel like he’s being kept alive. He gags, trying to get air in.

“That’s right. Relax.”

His vision darkens and his body falls limp, but not before he pins a name to that oily voice.

**———**

By the sound of things, he’s not alone when he wakes, but his head pounds too much for him to think of anything else for a second. Light pours in from a window, landing directly on his face. He squeezes his eyes closed again. This is his fault for not being more aware.

There are cutting sounds and he can’t lay around like this much longer. With a subdued groan, he rolls up to a sitting position the pushes himself to his feet. He’s locked in a makeshift cell in the corner of the workroom. The shoulder of his coat is stiff with dried blood. The shallow bullet wound still stings, but it’s stopped bleeding. It’s the least of his worries at the moment. A man stands at the table not too far away, sawing into something. Bokuto squints at him. Though his back is to him, it appears to be Kuguri.

Bokuto blinks to clear his eyes and moves to the door, hands wrapping around the bars. Kuguri brings his clever down with a loud clunk. Bokuto winces, more at what he sees than the sound itself. With a swift chop, Kuguri has separated a human arm from the rest of a body, which is just a torso now, a bloody lump of meat. Backing away to the wall, Bokuto gags silently.

Not silently enough. Kuguri pauses mid-swing and turns. Those eyes haven’t changed and Bokuto watches horrified as his bored expression falls on him. He blinks and sets his knife on the stained table. He leaves the room and Bokuto is on his own.

It smells thickly of blood. Like magnets, his eyes are drawn to the pile of limbs along one side of the room. He retches in his own corner, but wiping his mouth, he knows he can’t stand idly by. He yanks on the door and the chain rattles. He kicks it and throws his entire body against the bars, but to no avail. He’s not breaking out on his own. He paces back and forth, just like a caged animal. Panting, he runs his hands over the chain-link. It rises to the ceiling and the walls are brick. He goes back to tugging at the chains when a new figure enters alone.

Daishou.

Bokuto immediately backs away from the door.

“How are you?” he asks, same tone he used when they first met, as if there’s not bars between them. As if there aren’t bloody human remains on the table right beside them.

“Fantastic,” Bokuto spits.

Daishou kneels down and slides a metal tray through the gap between the bottom bar and the floor. Bokuto can’t really tell what the food is, the lighting’s still too dim. there’s a small cup of water as well. He realizes how hungry he is and feels the dryness in his mouth. Still, he hesitates, eyes wandering back to the bloody scene to their right.

He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. “What is it?” he asks slowly, staring challengingly now at Daishou.

Daishou stares levelly back. “Just deer,” he says. “The one you traded us actually.”

“With some human bits on the side?”

Chuckling, Daishou shakes his head. “No, just deer.” He raises a hand. “I promise.”

Bokuto snorts at that before crouching down and shoveling the food into his mouth. It tastes like deer. He only slows for the water, which dribbles a bit down his chin. He swipes it away and continues eating until the plate is mostly clean. He’ll need all the strength he can get, he tells himself.

Daishou crouches down across from him while he finishes up. “You’re very quick to judge us, though you and your friend killed how many of my men?”

Shaking his head, Bokuto looks up. This again? He just won’t let it go. Doesn’t he understand? It’s how things are now. You take a risk, you lose people. Bokuto’s lost enough people to know this. “They didn’t give us a choice,” he says. And they didn’t. They shot first, Akaashi and Bokuto only retaliated.

“So then we do?”

Bokuto doesn’t answer. He slides the tray back through. These are two completely different things here. Killing people because they’re shooting at you against killing them to eat are very different.

“We kill to survive. So do you,” Daishou continues. “We take care of each other here. Surely you understand wanting to protect your own. By any means, if necessary.”

Dragging a hand over his face, Bokuto decides to change the subject. He’s not going to sit around for a moral debate. As much as it pains him, they’ll just have to agree to disagree. “What happens now?” he asks at last. “Your people are hungry. Are you going to chop me up next?”

“What’s your name?” Daishou asks instead of answering.

Retreating from the door again, Bokuto gets to his feet. He partly turns away, choosing not to answer.

“You’re being very unreasonable,” Daishou says over a laugh. “I have been more than charitable with you. Honest. You’ve eaten.” He gives a nod to the tray. “You’re not dead, but you’ll have to repay the favor if I’m to convince the rest. They would like nothing more than to see you dead, you know. Help us out and maybe I can get things to work in your favor.”

“Kill me then,” Bokuto growls. “Get it over with.”

He can only guess. Akaashi’s the one they really want, he figures. That thought scares him. It scares him a lot.

Daishou hangs his head and steps closer to lean against the door. “Help us scratch each other’s back,” he says, stretching out a hand through the bars.

Bokuto doesn’t waste a second. As soon as the hand enters his prison, he pounces. He yanks it down and pushes forward, hearing the satisfying sound of something snapping. He guesses a finger.

Daishou’s other hand reaches in to try and untangle the first. Bokuto’s head swings to the side and grabs hold of it with his teeth, breaking skin. Daishou wrenches the hand free and Bokuto spits the blood out as he reaches desperately for the keys strung to his belt. He has them just in his fingertips when Daishou yanks his other hand back, pulling Bokuto along with it until his head collides with the iron bars. He crashes again and again until Daishou releases him and he falls to the ground, nose bleeding, head aching a lot more than before.

He wipes his nose weakly. He winces, but it doesn’t seem broken, just bleeds a lot. The skin along his bottom lip and forehead has split as well.

“Stupid boy!” Daishou spits in his rage, practically frothing at the mouth. He holds his broken finger. “You’re proving very difficult to keep alive!”

Kuguri rushes in then. “Daishou—”

Daishou nods at him and grabs the keys. He unlocks Bokuto’s prison and together they haul him up by the shoulders. The bullet graze from earlier burns under their rough hands.

“Get off!” Bokuto yells, kicking out his feet as they carry him, but his head feels like it’s splitting. He’s too dazed to put up much of a fight. He’s slammed onto the table while the rest is shoved to the floor. He wiggles and writhes under their grip, but no luck. Their grip is too strong.

Kuguri grabs his clever and Daishou says something that doesn’t quite reach Bokuto’s ears through his panic. Then he spits out the only thing he knows will make people stop.

“I’m infected!”

Just as he predicted, Kuguri’s hand holding the clever freezes and Daishou stares down at him.

“I’m infected,” he repeats in the sudden quiet, his pants sounding out, too.

Daishou looks at Kuguri with disbelief and Bokuto’s afraid he’s going to tell him to get on with it so he keeps going.

“Really,” he says. “Go on, lift up my sleeve.” He nods to the hand Daishou holds down and his eyes light with sudden cleverness. He’d just wiped his bloody nose there. That means the bite will look a lot more real than it is or a lot more infected. Recent, too. He hopes. “Look at it!” he shouts more firmly when neither one moves.

Daishou’s eyes narrow at him, but slowly he rolls Bokuto’s sleeve back. Bokuto twists his hand for a better view of the bite on the outside of his wrist. He chuckles a little bit at the way Daishou’s face falls. “Didn’t you say,” he gasps through the pain in his head, “everything happens for a reason? Feed me to your people and you’ll have your whole town infected by the end of the week.”

Kuguri’s jaded expression lifts ever so slightly as he gets his own view of the bite. “That’s infected. It has to be.” Bokuto feels his grip loosen, then lift entirely as he steps back, leaving his clever on the table as he does.

Normal human bites look nothing like an infected’s. At least Bokuto’s scar manages to capture that, the veins still black beneath it, the way the skin dimples with scar tissue, and the puckered marks where the teeth sank in.

Daishou still has his hands gripping Bokuto, each framing the bit, staring at it like it’s a book in a different language he’s trying to read. Bokuto can’t hide the triumphant look that comes to his eyes and he spots his own bite he’d left on Daishou’s hand. No one’s looking at his face to catch it.

“He would’ve turned by now,” is Daishou’s shaky response as he tries to compose himself. “Surely.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s probably fake.”

“Well, it looks real to me.”

While the two argue over him, Bokuto lifts his free hand to grab the clever. It’s an awkward swing with his left hand, but he manages to bury it in the side of Kuguri’s neck. Bokuto drops to the floor in the same movement and feels, more than hears, a shot go off over his head.

He doesn’t allow himself to relax. He sprints for the door, pushing off a hanging chunk of meat that’s in his way. It keeps Daishou’s bullets from hitting. He does pause on the other side, back against the wall, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. There, on a wooden table, is his knife. He recognizes it. One of them must’ve been using it. He grabs it before scrambling away as fast as he can, not allowing himself to think that he’s armed with only a knife against Daishou and the rest of his group.

**———**

After days of hazy fog swirling in his head, he gasps awake, finally shedding the nightmares that had constantly been dragging him down, whether they were real or not. It feels as if his head’s been dunked into ice water. It might as well have. It’s absolutely freezing. He throws the blanket off himself and immediately regrets it. Pain bursts like lightning through his side and lingers like a flame until it dies down. He pushes a hand against it and remembers.

He remembers the library and the horrifying fall. The sharp, ripping pain. Trying to escape with Bokuto.

It’s much different now. The pain is more of an ache, but it throbs through his entire body. The haze settles in again, threatening to pull him under once more. Fighting against it, he sits along the side of the mattress. He pulls his hand away. A bit of blood is smeared there, but it’s not enough to cause him much worry.

No, what really worries him is that he’s alone.

“Bokuto,” he calls out, but it’s little more than a hoarse whisper. His voice fails him after going so long without use.

There’s no one here in this little, stone room. The windows sit near the top of the walls. Must be some kind of basement. He spots his backpack leaning against the opposite wall.

He tries to get to his feet, but his legs give out under his weight. He slumps slowly to the ground. It takes more time just to gather himself to his knees. His body aches and his side protests greatly, but it doesn’t feel like it had. When the metal had first stabbed his body, it felt like constant flames licking through his flesh. That’s something to feel better about, though not much.

After a few more tries, he succeeds in getting to his feet and makes his way over to his backpack to put it on. It’s not as heavy as he would have liked, but it is easier to carry.

He takes the stairs just as slowly, hefting one foot up, then the next. Involuntarily, his grunts and groans pass through gritted teeth. They slither out as he tries to choke them down.

At the top, he moves aside a broken door and steps into a garage. Each painful breath puffs out in front of him. Was it this cold the last time he was awake? He remembers cold nights, but nothing like this. Glancing up, most of the garage roof is missing and snow delicately floats through. He frowns at it. Then turns that frown to the garage door. He’s going to have to lift it to get out.

It’s lighter than he thinks, though. He manages to send it up, albeit loudly, with one arm. The other continues to apply pressure to his side. Not necessary, but he convinces himself it helps.

What greets him is a snowy world he’s never seen before. Where are they? The brightness of the snow forces him to close his eyes, confusing him. Did he wake up in the right body? Where’s Bokuto? He tries to push the lid down on his panic despite feeling disoriented. Where is Bokuto? That thought manages to leak free, like a single wisp of steam.

His eyes adjust to the outside light as he walks down the driveway. He makes a left down the road, not taking the time to worry which way to start. Does it matter?

Shots crack through the silence. He quickly ducks behind the neighboring house.

“What the hell,” he grumbles, digging through his backpack. At least he still has his weapons with him. Though is it really that much of a surprise to find people shooting at him again? It does make him worry about Bokuto’s absence all the more.

He pokes his head out around the house and spies two men coming down the porch steps across the street. They saw where he went so they head his way. Akaashi wastes no time loading his gun and pulling the trigger on both of them. Well, if anything, his aim hasn’t suffered during his long recovery. They fall before they reach the road.

Before he can relax, he’s grabbed from behind. Along with his new attacker, he hears another set of footsteps coming from the front of the house. He twists in the arms and then kicks out at the one approaching. The man blocks the kick to his stomach, but when Akaashi swings his legs up into his groin he doubles over and falls.

Akaashi backs the man holding him into the corner of the house, jabbing his elbows into his ribs then down into his gut, slamming his heel down on his foot at the same time. Losing his breath, his arms drop from around Akaashi’s shoulders. He knocks his head backward, successfully sending the man to the ground. He knows from experience that the blow will hurt his attacker a lot more than it’ll hurt himself.

He turns on the man still recovering on the ground and kicks him square in the face. Both are down for the count, but not dead. It’s time for Akaashi to get some answers.

**———**

Bokuto heads out into the storm and it’s risen into quite the blizzard. The winds howl, sending the snow flying into his face at speeds that sting his cheeks. He can’t see anything, just shadows of buildings looming on either side of the road and he tries to avoid those. If Daishou’s men are out looking for them, he can’t see or hear them. That only means they must be just as blind out here.

He crouches as he walks, his arms brought in tightly to his chest. He tries to stay as warm as possible as he looks for a way out of this town and find his way back to Akaashi. He’s been gone for too long.

He figures he nears the center of town when orange lights start spotting his vision. So they are looking for him after all. They have fires out to warm themselves, set up just outside the buildings. Anything to fight this blizzard.

Bokuto can’t help it, he nears the fires when he can, keeping low and out of sight. He’s drawn like a moth to flame, literally. Anything to warm his body, just so he can move his fingers again, so he can cling to the knife in their grip, before he heads back into the storm. No one sees him, though he does catch snippets of conversation as he passes. Just a few words before the wind carries them away.

He thinks of Daishou panicking, thinking he’s infected from Bokuto’s bite. Even more than the fires can, this thought warms him.

**———**

Akaashi pulls his bloody fists back as he painstakingly gets to his feet. They ache, but not nearly as bad as his side. It throbs, reminding him exactly where that metal rod pierced him open. If anything, it’s berating him from his little tussle with these two earlier.

“Stay there,” he says absentmindedly to the man lying on the ground. He’s banged up enough that Akaashi hardly thinks he needs tied up.

He approaches the other man he did tie up in the opposite corner of the house. He was the one most likely to run, fought him every knot he tied. He squirms now, after seeing what Akaashi had done to his friend, and now seeing him head his way. All this and Akaashi hasn’t even asked a single question yet. Maybe he just woke up on the wrong side of a lumpy mattress. Maybe he’s just not in the mood for bullshit. If they’re afraid already, better for him. More likely things will go much quicker. They won’t be tempted to lie.

“Alright,” he starts, crouching down. He pulls his hand away from his side. Show no weakness. “Tell me about the boy. Is he alive?” Bringing out his knife, he rolls it slowly in his fingers, staring at the man from under the hair that hangs in his face.

“What boy?” The man’s lips tremble. From the way he shakes, Akaashi can’t be sure if it’s fear or the cold. “There is no boy.”

His fist closes around the knife handle. He really needs this to go fast. Every second matters. The man sits upright, with his legs flat out before him. Akaashi slams the point of the blade into his thigh, right behind the kneecap. The man screams, but Akaashi’s quick cuff to the head cuts it off.

“You focus on me,” me says, inching closer to the man’s face, “or I will pop your kneecap right off. Now. The boy.”

As he overcomes his pain, the man begins to nod, panting for breath. “Yes—yes,” he stutters, “he’s alive. He’s alive—Daishou has him.”

“Where at?” Akaashi asks and as calmly as he can, he twists the knife slowly, bringing the man to whimpers. He can’t afford this man thinking up any lies. Better that he has no chance but to spit out the truth. He pulls the knife out and brings it up to the man’s mouth, hilt first. It drips with blood and after a confused second, the man takes it between his teeth. Akaashi pulls Iwaizumi’s map from his bag. “Mark it.” He holds the map to his face. “And then I’ll check with your friend.”

Shaking, the man pins a drop of red to the map before spitting out the knife. “It’s there. Ask him,” he says as he breathes heavily, knocking his head to motion to the other man. “Right there. A town—”

Akaashi gets to his feet again, suppressing a groan. Though he’s slow to stand, getting his gun back out is fast and in a second the shot sounds out. The man topples over. He turns to the other man who quickly backs up against the wall.

His eyes wide, they swing quickly between his friend’s body and Akaashi. “He told you what you wanted to know.” The words tumble out of his mouth. His gaze changes to stare defiantly up at Akaashi. “I won’t tell you anything.”

Knowing that these people have Bokuto, that they could be hurting him, much worse than what he did here, Akaashi finds it no trouble to bring his gun back up. He fires. “Why would he lie?” he asks the corpse. Glancing down at the map in his hands, he knows he needs no validation for what the man marked. This is where he’ll find Bokuto. This is where he’s headed.

**———**

Bokuto sneaks into an old lodge through the back. It’s large enough that he figures it’ll be a lot quicker, and warmer, to go through it rather than around. Fires burn in the kitchen where he’s entered, creating a warm atmosphere. The feeling almost lulls him into a false sense of security. Other than internally celebrating the feeling returning to his feet, he stays low and keeps quiet.

He walks out into a dining area. Plates and other chinaware are smashes along the wooden floors. He’s careful to go around them, not making a sound. He circles around a line of booths, looking toward the exit. Other than the smashed plates, perhaps Daishou’s group gathered here often. It seems well put together still, even frequently used with candles burning on tables, the hearth lit, and banners tied up on some walls with positive messages. Bokuto doesn’t bother reading.

He steels himself as he nears the front entrance. He can see only white through the door’s window, but he needs to go back out there. For Akaashi. Tensing, he opens the door, only to be pushed right back inside.

“There you are,” he hears Daishou’s voice snarl.

He scrambles, trying to take the gun from his hands, but Daishou pulls away, knocking him into a table and then down to the ground, upsetting the table as well. The candles set atop thump down next to Bokuto’s head.

“How?” Daishou demands and Bokuto quickly crawls away back behind the line of booths. “Fine,” he says as Bokuto hides, “we can take our time.”

It doesn’t seem like Daishou wants to kill him right away. Good and bad. He sounds like this is some kind of game. That makes Bokuto shiver. Does he stand a chance with only a knife?

Guess eating people really messes you up, he thinks grimly.

He hears Daishou fumbling around with something instead of following. Then Bokuto remembers the candles. Is he trying to burn the place down? Or perhaps smoke him out instead? He hears the door lock. Does he seriously have keys to every place in the town? It makes Bokuto want to yell, but he keeps his mouth firmly clamped shut. Instead, he starts moving away. Maybe, if Daishou doesn’t get between him, he can circle back around to where he came in.

“I know you’re not infected by the way,” Daishou calls.

Bokuto hears his voice traveling along down the outer tables. He starts heading in the opposite direction.

“If you were—well,” Daishou chuckles, “I hardly think you’d being fighting this hard.”

Hearing him about to turn down his aisle, Bokuto ducks under a table. It’s a booth so it should supply enough cover, just for Daishou to pass him by.

“Come out, boy. I’ll put you out of your misery.”

While Daishou continues on to the other side of the restaurant, Bokuto peeks out to stare longingly at the front door. If only he had those keys! There won’t be any escape through there unless he confronts Daishou and he can’t do that head on. Staring down at the switchblade in his hands, Bokuto knows he’ll have to surprise him if anything’s gonna work.

**———**

Nearly doubled over, Akaashi limps through the piling snow, leaning into the cruel winds. He has to be in town by now. There are plenty of people patrolling. Almost too many for what should be a secured town with this group occupying it. He ducks behind a car as another group passes him by.

He can’t risk a shootout here. He’ll just have to keep the element of surprise and find Bokuto on his own. Then he’ll kill whoever he needs to, break him out or whatever needs doing, and get the hell out of here just as quietly. He’s not quite sure he can pull all that off, especially not being able to walk straight, but keeping it in his thoughts lets him push on. Just get Bokuto back first, that’s all there is too it. Everything else can come after.

**———**

Just one more step, Bokuto thinks impatiently, flipping his knife to a downward grip. Daishou takes the step. Bokuto springs out, leaping onto his back, legs hooking around his waste and hand wasting no time stabbing blindly. Then he falls and scurries away again, back to hiding.

To his surprise, Daishou only laughs light, though painfully. “That was good,” he grunts. “I’ll admit, that was very good.”

From a safe place, Bokuto peeks out. Daishou holds onto his right shoulder. Bokuto hurries and crouches back down, cursing under his breath. This place is going up in flames and that’s the best he can do? He’ll have to start worrying about the smoke before too long. Already the entire front has caught fire and burning fast. Beams crack under hungry flames and thick wafts of smoke float lazily up to the ceiling. There’s no point in having a key now. Not when there’s a wall of flames to go through. Now there’s just avoiding a crazy man with a gun and trying to get out alive.

**———**

Akaashi tucks himself through a doorway, just barely missing two passing men. He shuts it firmly behind him and turns on his flashlight. There’s no light in here, it’s pitch black and there’s no use searching for a switch. There’s a metal shelf on the opposite side of the wall. He nearly passes it by when something grabs his eye. A backpack, but not just any, Bokuto’s. He’d recognize it anywhere. It was originally Kuroo’s after al. Quickly, he grabs it and slings it over his shoulder next to his own.

He continues through the room and pushes another door open. No one seems to be around. They’re all outside, of all places with this blizzard going on. The beam of his flashlight falls onto hanging objects in the next room. He gasps, frozen in the doorway.

Bodies, four of them, all hanging upside down by their feet, bare besides a rag wrapped around their eyes. He’s suddenly much colder than he was outside.

As much as he wants to run away from this, he allows his flashlight to fall on each one. He wants to rush, but it feels like his body is stuck in slow motion. Besides, he has to be sure. He needs a good look at each.

He can only breathe when he knows for certain none of the bodies is Bokuto’s. Even still, he breathes shallowly through his mouth as he passes them. He still thinks he might be sick. He thought he’d seen most of this new word’s horrors. Clearly he was wrong.

Please let him be okay, he thinks. Please, please, please.

**———**

The flames throw strange shadows and it’s harder and harder to keep track of where Daishou is. He lifts up from his crouch slightly, whipping his head around wildly. In on hand, he grips his knife. In the other, is a dirty bottle he’d picked up along the way. Anything works as a weapon in this scenario.

Suddenly, there’s movement between two booths, right where the shadows fall. Daishou runs at him, ready at last to finish this game.

Bokuto yells out in surprise and fear. The man doesn’t even look human the way the light disfigures his face. Only on instinct does he throw the bottle. It stops Daishou enough that he raises his arms to protect his face. It’s enough for Bokuto to bury his fears and throw himself at Daishou, piercing the same shoulder again with his knife.

Somehow, he gets himself on Daishou’s back again, trying to dig in his knife. As Daishou gropes for hold of him, he changes his aim to his side. He stabs his knife down into Daishou’s side and twists. Daishou manages to grab a handful of Bokuto’s jacket and throws him over his head. Bokuto hangs on so that they both fall to the ground. That’s where they stay, momentarily stunned by their injuries.

**———**

Akaashi leaves the horrible building with the hanging bodies and finds himself greeted with a new horror. The building just across the street has gone up in flames. It shines through the storm’s white cloak like a beacon. If he knows Bokuto and his knack for getting into dangerous situations, that’s where he’ll be.

“Oh Bokuto,” he murmurs, running as fast as he can. “Let me make it in time.”

**———**

He doesn’t want to move. He’d give anything in the world to never move again. He feels banged and bruised and his head just hurts so bad. He’s warm at least. He could stay and sleep all this off.

Daishou’s panting reminds him he needs to get to his feet. Now.

It’s the smoke, he tells himself as he slowly pushes himself to his hands and knees. It fills the air and chokes his lungs when he breathes. He can’t let the smoke beat him. Daishou sure as hell won’t.

Bokuto hunches his shoulders and rests his head on the rug that covers the floor as coughs rock his body. He really needs to get out of here. He needs to finish this.

Pausing to catch his breath, he stares down at empty hands. Why? Why are they empty? It takes a moment for his muddled brain to find the answer. There. His knife has slid under the booth. He needs it.

Go, he tells himself through gritted teeth, even if it’s just a crawl. He needs to get to it first. His side pinches as he moves. Did Daishou throw him harder than he thought? Are they broken? No. Can’t be. Just bruised.

Just bruises. No excuses, his mind tells him and he pushes on.

So close. He reaches out, but Daishou’s already gotten to his feet. A well-aimed kick slams into Bokuto’s aching ribs. He grunts and rolls to his side, curling up to protect himself from more kicks.

“Just give up already,” Daishou groans.

Bokuto has no sympathy for him, has no sympathy for himself. Nuh-uh, he thinks, Akaashi went through way worse than this and he was on his feet shooting more men than I was. Pull yourself if you have to!

His fingers dig into the rug, dragging his body forward. He’s right beneath Daishou’s gaze, but his mind won’t let him quit. Daishou can clearly see what he’s reaching for. He’ll never allow his fingers to even touch the knife. Still, Bokuto’s mind urges him on.

Another kick, sends Bokuto on his back. He coughs, but before he can react, Daishou’s weight crashes onto his stomach, pinning him down, hands clasped around his throat.

“Try begging,” Daishou breathes. “It could make this quicker.”

Bokuto squirms, hands above his head. Reaching.

His grip tightens. “Or not.” Spitting, his face leans in closer, eyes locked on Bokuto’s, though Bokuto looks up in search for his knife. “You’ll suffer for every man I lost. I tried my best with you, but no luck. Until I find your friend, I’ll make you wish you _were_ infected. But when I do find him—” He laughs. “You think your death will be long—you have no idea what I have planned for—”

Bokuto’s hand closes around the hilt and swipes up, cutting shallowly into Daishou’s throat. Daishou cries out as he leans back in surprise and Bokuto topples him over. He pins his shoulders down with his knees, digging extra hard into the injured one. Down goes his knife.

No. He brings it down again. You’ll never hurt Akaashi or me ever again. He uses both hands on the slippery hilt. He grits his teeth against the warm blood speckling his face. Never ever again.

He wants to keep going until he doesn’t hear that oily voice in his head again, until he doesn’t feel his arms wrapped around him, until his eyes stop staring up at him. But they keep staring so he keeps bringing his knife down.

But arms still grab around his sore ribs and pull him off. Hands take the knife from his grip as he fights.

“No! Get off me!” he shouts, knowing exactly what Daishou’s men will do to him. They’ll kill him. They’ll eat him.

Those same hands grip his shoulders tightly. They turn him away from the mess he’s made.

“Hey, hey, it’s me.” Hands are on his checks and they’re gentle. “It’s me, Bokuto.”

He still struggles, still sees red. He feels it on his face and feels the need to run with his heart hammering in his chest.

The hands are firm as the thumbs trace his cheekbones. “You’re safe now. You’re safe, I promise. It’s me. It’s Akaashi.”

His struggles slow as he blinks away the red. His eyes clear and he sees him. They narrow, trying to take him all in. It is Akaashi. It’s his face. His eyes. He almost forgot how beautiful they are. And he’s awake and here. And his hands—they’re warm and touching him now. He looks at him like he hasn’t in so, so long.

Bokuto chokes out a sob. He lets Akaashi hold him, keeping from looking over his shoulder at what’s left of Daishou. He clings to Akaashi’s jacket and cries because he’s really, really here and Bokuto’s hands are all bloody and so is his face, but Akaashi holds him anyway. His hands run through his black hair and he buries his nose in the crook of his neck. He smells like Akaashi. For some reason, that makes it so much more real and his shoulders start to shake.

Pulling away, he rests their foreheads together and just stares for a second, but it’s all too much and he digs his way back to Akaashi’s chest. The heartbeat he listened for every night, every morning, every time he returned to him, it’s there. His chest rumbles as he talks, but it falls on deaf ears. It’s all Bokuto can do just to sit there and drink in his heat as Akaashi holds onto him. Very slowly, he lets the weight fall off his shoulders and allows himself to just cry, allows that to be his only responsibility because Akaashi is finally here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With each chapter update, it's harder and harder to believe how close this is to being done (and yes, it's down to 16 chapters now, the one I was planning really had one scene in it and it would've just disrupted the flow). The last two chapters will finally be summing this all up and I'm looking forward to working on them. Some are partly written so hopefully that'll be a big help as I move back to school. 
> 
> I do this each chapter, but thank you so, so much for everyone's encouragement and kind words and thoughts. They mean a lot to me and have really helped carry me through this story. It makes it such a pleasure to update for you guys each time.
> 
> My tumblr:[silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Chapter Title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lh3TokLzzmw)


	15. I Found

_“If you want the Crows, they’ve gone—and so am I. Dead, and soon probably. I don’t know how long, but I’m alone now so I have some time to reflect._

_“Ever since the outbreak, I gave my life for their cause. I gave them everything—_ everything _. My only regret is that I won’t see if we succeed. Will it all be worth it in the end? I know plenty of folks who’ve given a hell of a lot more than I have…and I’ve given a lot. I just—I wish I knew if all these sacrifices were enough._

_“I first heard of the Crows in the days following the outbreak. While the government just wanted everyone locked away in quarantine there was actually a group willing to do whatever it took to save humanity. I thought the Crows were a miracle and so I couldn’t sit by watching our country fall prey to those—those monsters._

_“Sometimes I’ve regretted that decision, getting so involved in something so big, so much bigger than myself. The responsibility of the cure fell so hard on our shoulders, especially those of us with medical backgrounds. Years passed us by with nothing to show for it. All we had were boxes upon boxes documenting our failures. Every single one. And on top of everything, the military was hunting us down. Still is, I assume. I was up north with the others—there wasn’t much risk there—but to hear about friends and acquaintances—those that shared the same dream—how they were executed in streets—those were dark days._

_“Hopeful days were few and scattered and that did nothing to lift our spirits._

_“We’ve been here for years, can’t remember the last time I’ve been down south. Can’t remember the last time I saw my brother and his family. I told him this was too important. Now I think I should’ve stayed with him for as long as I could. Would I say that if I weren’t about to fire a gun into my brain? I don’t know._

_“We had one breakthrough. One. About a year ago, but that failed. Just a huge fucking disaster. We’re still trying to recover data. Maybe if we could get to that point again, things could be different. That could take years._

_“But Sawamura said he had something—or might. He didn’t know. He radioed in a while ago. Haven’t heard from him since. Said he’d send it up in a week. Who knows when it’ll get here, but he said it’d be worth it. I hope so, for the sake of our sacrifices, for the sake of those that are still left._

_“I’m done though. I’m tired. Even if I weren’t infected—I think I’d still be done. If Daichi’s promise works out—well, I don’t give a fuck. How does it help the dead?_

_“What a mess, but if you’re looking for the others, they returned to Kenritsu Central Hospital in Asamushi. You’ll find them there. They’ll be saving the world I’m sure. A lot of good that did me.”_

**———**

_February, 2022_

“Bokuto,” Akaashi says the name again, frowning. “Bokuto.” Huffing a frustrated sigh, he walks over and snaps his fingers in Bokuto’s face. He’s been staring at some jumbled up graffiti for a minute straight. It doesn’t even say anything. Not real words at least.

“Waah! Yeah? What is it?” he asks, jumping at Akaashi’s snapping, eyes wide.

Akaashi sighs. “Did you hear what I said?” he asks exasperatedly.

Blinking owlishly at him, Bokuto shakes his head.

Akaashi raises his hand to point at a road sign. “It’s for the hospital,” he says. “This is our stop.”

Bokuto nods slowly as he looks between the sign and Akaashi, taking his time to connect the dots. “Right,” he says at last, a bit underwhelming.

“Let’s go.”

As Akaashi starts off down the road again, he can’t help the nagging feeling in the back of his mind as Bokuto drags behind again. He’s been awfully quiet these past few days. Akaashi can’t quite pin down when it happened, but it was like flipping a switch all the same. Suddenly, Bokuto’s constantly flowing words dammed up and he starting spacing out. Akaashi casts a small glance over his shoulder. Bokuto stares intently at a pebble as he kicks it down the street, shoulders hunched, hands pocketed. He lifts his head to watch the clouds briefly before returning his focus.

It’s not quite a depressed silence, Akaashi decides. Like a distracted kind. He watches again as Bokuto nearly runs right into a parked car. Very distracted.

The weather has been nice though. They’ve had their share of warmer days lately. Even had a night where they could camp out. They even replaced their winter jackets with lighter ones a few weeks ago when they ran into some good supplies. The slight shift in the seasons bugs him, but maybe it just goes hand-in-hand with the whole apocalypse thing. Either way, he’s glad for the bit of warmth added to the breeze.

Akaashi heads toward a beaten up RV off to the side of the freeway. There’s never a bad time to look around. There’s a corpse on the stairs, but it’s long dead. He carefully steps around it, gun at the ready, though there’s no need for alarm. They haven’t run into anything or anyone for a while now. The perks of being up north, although the warmer weather could mean a disadvantage.

All that’s inside is musty, foul-smelling air and another body on the back bed. It’s been covered with a ratty blanket, but Akaashi recognizes that shape, even as small as it is. He guesses this one died first, then the one on the stairs. Infected don’t respect the dead like this.

Bokuto waits outside while Akaashi takes a second to go through the RV. Most cars don’t hold anything useful, but you never know with larger vehicles like this. Besides, they’ll still need to start planning for a return journey.

He ignores a faded photograph of the family that’s a drawer. The quick glance he spares shows the parents with two kids. That accounts for the two corpses, but he guesses the other two are long gone. He doesn’t bother wasting time getting worried about it.

There’s nothing here. A dull knife, but that’s useless. It’s probably been cleaned out long ago. Of course, the door was hanging wide open. Akaashi leaves, not wanting to breathe in the stink for a moment longer.

He finds Bokuto sitting cross-legged on the road, picking at the cracked asphalt. He scrambles to his feet when he sees Akaashi and they continue their way down the road. They follow the signs that direct them toward the hospital. Only when they’re further into the city do they stop, a wall standing in their way. It reminds Akaashi of Shizuoka.

“Looks like another abandoned quarantine zone,” he remarks. They’ve backtracked a ways to get a better view from atop a car. He can just barely see over the wall. “And there’s the hospital that Crow mentioned. Kenritsu Central Hospital.” He sees it sitting between two buildings. It wouldn’t be far if this wall wasn’t in the way. He jumps down, leaving Bokuto to follow. “You ready?”

Bokuto shrugs. “Sure.”

“Well, we’ll have to find a way through that wall first. Let’s see if there’s a building,” he trails off, looking around.

“Yeah, that’s usually the best way through,” Bokuto adds. Both have plenty of experience breaking in and out of complexes like this, abandoned or occupied, it’s all the same. Find a building built along the wall, usually condemned and often guarded periodically. That also means it’s falling apart, or close to it, but that’s not really a problem. They’ve gotten through much harder obstacles. Either that, or find a way over using the rooftops.

Further down the road, there’s a building that’s high enough to get them over and not too far from the others beyond the wall. It seems like an old train station or something, Akaashi’s not quite sure. All he cares about is that it has an easy access to the second floor. It’s open with a high ceiling and though the stairs are no longer an option, there are no railings on the upper level. With a boost, they could get up there no problem. He searches for the best point.

Bokuto sits on one of the waiting chairs in front of the ticket booths while Akaashi looks. He casts him small glances, he can’t imagine Bokuto being tired already. It’s still early in the day. It must be something else.

“Are you okay?” he asks casually as he passes by. He doesn’t want to set Bokuto off into an even worse mood by accident.

“Yup, just dandy.”

And he sounds fine, but Akaashi just can’t believe him. He halts his searching. “You’ve just been—very quiet today,” he decides on saying. “It’s not like you.”

Bokuto kicks his feet as he ducks his head. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s not—” his brows narrow at Bokuto’s lack of response, he sighs “—it’s fine, Bokuto.” Maybe it’s nerves. Bokuto was nervous the last time they were planning to meet the Crows, just in a different way. In a very different way. Akaashi remembers him fretting over his hair. Each strand had to be gelled perfectly in order for the Crows to see him. Not today. Like Akaashi thought. Distracted. “There’s a ladder over here. Maybe I could boost you up.”

Bokuto nods absently and Akaashi crosses through the middle of the room. He spies a big window that supplies the room with most of its light. That could allow them to see where to head next. Along the edge poke the end of a ladder. He eyes it hopefully. That will definitely be useful. He wonders if the Crows passed through here often if there’s a ladder left lying about. Maybe they’ll run into them.

Assuming Bokuto’s behind, Akaashi crouches automatically with his back to the wall, hands ready for Bokuto’s foot. Only, Bokuto hasn’t moved an inch. He stares at his twiddling fingers. Akaashi straightens. “Bokuto,” he calls.

Bokuto jumps at the sound of his name and he gets to his feet. “Oh, right. The ladder. Sorry.”

“Its—fine,” Akaashi mutters as Bokuto hurries over. He gets back into position.

Bokuto plants his foot firmly in Akaashi’s clasped hands. With a strong heave, Akaashi hoists him upward. It’s still a bit too high so Bokuto takes the next step onto Akaashi’s shoulder while Akaashi braces his legs. Then his weight is gone and Akaashi is left panting, gripping his side. It’s better. It’s so much better than it was, but it still stings when he exerts himself too much. Stinging’s not the right word, but then he’s not sure what is. Maybe next time they’ll have to look for a different way up, or Bokuto could boost him. Next time, he thinks as he catches his breath and allows the pain to fade. Turning around, he looks up.

He watches Bokuto start over to the ladder. It scrapes along the side as he moves it and he’s just about to slide it carefully into position for Akaashi when it slips from his fingers. He spins around, eyes on something else that Akaashi can’t see.

“What in the world,” Akaashi hears his quiet gasp and Bokuto disappears out of sight. Akaashi ducks out of the way as the ladder clangs to the ground beside him.

“What is it?” he yells up. He hurries to get the ladder set up so he can climb. “Bokuto!” His voice only echoes off the walls with no response. Grumbling under his breath, he climbs the ladder and pulls himself up over the edge. He finds Bokuto staring out the window. He steps back and starts off down the hall, only pausing when he sees Akaashi. His face splits into a grin.

“Hurry, Akaashi! Wait ‘til you see!” Bokuto suddenly sounds ten times better than he had only moments before. Akaashi’s stunned and watches as Bokuto runs off again.

Frustrated, Akaashi frowns and approaches the window. “What?” he asks, but Bokuto’s already gone. He glances out the window, but sees nothing, the pane of glass obstructing how far he can see along the side of the building. The only thing he can do is keep following. From Bokuto’s excitement, he guesses it can’t be anything too terrible. He resists the urge to arm himself. It’s not necessary, he thinks and continues down the hallway.

Up a ways, Bokuto is craning his neck to peer out the side of another window. He smiles brightly as Akaashi draws near. He feels his heart flutter and warmth spread through his chest, the annoyance melting away. It’s been too long since that smile’s been directed at him.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Bokuto urges before trotting off again.

The smile disappears from view and Akaashi is overwhelmed by the need to bask in it again. Shaking his head, Akaashi tries to hurry up his pace. He dodges around fallen chairs and vending machines while he watches Bokuto hurdle over them further ahead, driven by his excitement. Akaashi feels a chuckle bubbling in his chest at his antics. It makes him feel light.

In the next room, a portion of the wall has collapsed, allowing plant life to spill through and start growing with the quick arrival of Spring.

“Whoa,” Bokuto gasps, already in the room.

Akaashi catches a barest hint of something moving out of view as he enters the room before it’s gone. Blinking, he thinks it’s probably the light playing tricks. He’s seeing things. Something that big—was it brown?—no, he didn’t get a good look at it. He can’t say for sure. He can’t allow his imagination to get away from him.

Besides, he doesn’t have the chance to put it together. Bokuto’s already leading the way out of the room. Akaashi takes a moment to watch a flock of birds fly past the opening and up into the blue sky. It’s quite a pretty sight. He doesn’t think he’s seen the arrival of Spring quite like this before.

They run the length of the building, moving from one room to the next, searching for whatever only Bokuto has seen. He keeps the lead. Finally, he comes to a dead halt. This is as far as they can go. The station stretches no farther. But it doesn’t need to.

The corner of this building is completely gone. It’s been exposed to the elements and, similar to the first room, it’s covered in greenery.

“Do you see this right now?” Bokuto whispers, like they’re in a dream and he doesn’t want to disrupt it.

Slowing down, Akaashi creeps up next to him. It’s a giraffe. Of all the things—he hadn’t expected something like this. He feels his mouth gape a bit. The great beast’s head is partway in the room, tugging at a vine of leaves that covers what’s left of the wall. It’s long, black tongue stretches out. He doesn’t think he’s never been so close to one before. He can’t even remember the last time he saw a giraffe.

His gaze switches to Bokuto as he inches forward. His eyes are wide and sparkling. He’s awestruck. And though Akaashi feels similarly, it’s a different experience seeing it on Bokuto’s face. Slightly closer now, Bokuto stops, just staring. A smile tugs on Akaashi’s lips. He moves closer as well.

“Sh, shh!” Bokuto breathes, holding his hands out as Akaashi starts getting even closer. “Don’t scare it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Akaashi murmurs, keeping his eyes on the giraffe. It chews on a mouthful of leaves. “Look.” Close enough now, he slowly reaches out his hand. With a light touch, his fingertips glide over the giraffe’s cheek. It blinks at him as it eats, those lashes just barely brushing his fingers. Akaashi hums encouragingly to it. He gestures to Bokuto when he hesitates. “Come here. It’s alright.”

Bokuto slides up to him, his mouth hanging open as he marvels at being so close. Akaashi pulls his hand back to take Bokuto’s. Very carefully, he raises both their hands up and settles Bokuto’s against the giraffe’s cheek.

“Just like that,” he whispers as he pulls his hand away.

“Amazing,” Bokuto breathes, hand stroking just like Akaashi’s had. “So cool. Oh—” finished with its leaves, the giraffe slowly pulls away and starts ambling off “—okay, bye.” He stares after it a moment before he turns and tugs on Akaashi’s sleeve. “Hurry, let’s see where it’s going.”

Laughing, Akaashi allows Bokuto to pull him along, his hand warm and comforting. Akaashi clings to it. They head back into the hallway and up a stairwell leading to the roof. Releasing Akaashi’s hand, he runs on ahead. He runs to the metal rail along the one side of the roof and leans over it to get a better look. Akaashi just wants to watch that scene for a second. With the wind tossing his hair and that smile still on his face, Bokuto makes quite the picture. Only a wild hand wave makes Akaashi move up to join him at the railing and see the wondrous view stretching out before them.

There’s a whole herd of giraffes. There must be eight or so. Akaashi’s too taken aback to count properly. The one they had seen moves to join the others. It looks like this green space used to be a park and Akaashi tries thinking back if Asamushi ever had a zoo. He can’t remember, but he assumes. He spots zebras as well and can only guess that there are plenty more animals making their home in the city.

Akaashi leans against the railing alongside Bokuto, looking out at all the animals as they move about. It’s almost like he and Bokuto don’t even exist. It’s like looking inside a bubble where the infection doesn’t exist, or it does, but the rest of the world can carry on. They’re watching the world move on without them. It doesn’t care about humanity or the outbreak. It has evolved and here it is, laid out right in front of their eyes.

“This is amazing,” he says in awe. “It’s been five years and they’re still here, survived everything. You’d think it would be impossible.”

“Sometimes these really small but really good things happen while everything else is falling apart,” Bokuto says and Akaashi turns to look at him gazing out. He looks peaceful. His excited smile has relaxed but has somehow become even more beautiful. “It’s like a miracle.”

Akaashi smiles at that, though Bokuto doesn’t see it. He thinks of Bokuto and how he’s become that one small miracle in the midst of this horrible and dreadful world. He holds the promise of the cure, a vaccine. That, maybe in the future, things won’t have to be like this. They can be different. A good kind of different.

Maybe humanity will evolve and move on like these giraffes. Maybe they just had a bit of a late start. In another five years—who knows—things might look as peaceful as this.

He’s immune, he’s the cure, sure, but Bokuto is much more than that. He is a great laugh, a joke in the middle of the night when everything else seems so dark around them. His scars show how this world has touched and hurt him, but his smiles shine of innocence that belonged years and years ago. It shouldn’t have a place here, but with Bokuto, it does. When he looks at Akaashi, he feels like maybe one more day or even another week is possible. When Bokuto looks at Akaashi, he’s transported back to those innocent, sunny days. He thinks everything will be okay.

If these animals surviving all this time is a miracle, then Bokuto is something else entirely. For some reason, that doesn’t scare Akaashi as much as he thought it would.

“Is it everything you expected?” he asks. He thinks back on their journey, the journey that has stretched out far longer than expected, but yet here they are. They’re standing here after everything. At the beginning, what did Bokuto imagine when he thought about the end of the journey?

Bokuto’s smile turns crooked as he shrugs, eyes not moving from the giraffes. He lowers his head to rest on folded arms. “Eh, good and bad.” He laughs and pauses, thinking. “But this is one hell of a view.”

Akaashi turns away to take it in again. It really is a great view. He knows he’ll have to pull Bokuto away from this soon. The words sit on his tongue, but he forces them to the back of his throat for the moment. They can spare some more time here. He thinks, after everything, they deserve it.

He wants Bokuto to stand here with a clear mind, appreciating everything around even though he can’t. He can’t stare off blissfully. Maybe at first, but not now. He suddenly has too much on his mind.

Akaashi thinks of how nervous Bokuto has been all day. It must be nerves. Only a distraction like the giraffes was able to lift his spirits. Akaashi’s afraid of Bokuto clamming up again as they make their way closer to the hospital. Yes, Bokuto is the cure and yes, he’s so much more than that. Why is he having second thoughts now? No, not second thoughts. Perhaps he’s just feeling the looming end of their journey, staring it in the face. It doesn’t feel as good as he had thought at the beginning.

Finally, Akaashi allows himself to turn and walk away. He places a hand on the doorknob. It’s about time to head back inside and find a way over that wall. He allows Bokuto to take one last glance, though he must know it’s time to leave, too. When Bokuto makes his way over, Akaashi hesitates on opening the door. His mind still swirls with thoughts and he’s not sure if he’s processed them enough to trust himself to say anything, but this might be his only chance.

“We don’t have to do this you know,” he says slowly, lifting his head to look directly at Bokuto.

Bokuto gives a bewildered laugh before he realizes Akaashi is serious. “Then what’re we supposed to do?”

“We could go back to Tozawa and Iwaizumi,” Akaashi says after a second. “I know you liked it there. We could be done with everything.” They’ve been through so much, he’d hate for the Crows to ruin it now, crush Bokuto’s expectations, Akaashi doesn’t know. He just—after everything—he doesn’t want this to be the thing that pushes Bokuto too far. He can’t say what’s going to happen and, finally, he admits to himself that he’s scared.

Maybe he just doesn’t want their journey to end.

Staring at him for a second, Bokuto wears a thoughtful expression. “After everything we’ve been through,” he says. He looks back out toward the giraffes and his expression saddens. “After everything I’ve been through,” he adds in a quieter voice to himself. “I can’t let that be for nothing, Akaashi.”

Akaashi allows another beat of silence, intently staring right back at Bokuto. He wants to be sure he means it. He wants to be sure that Bokuto knows that he has a decision if he wants it. It’s his to make. Finally, Akaashi give a slight nod. He’s not even sure if Bokuto sees it.

Bokuto gazes one last time over the rooftop before he moves past Akaashi and enters the stairway. Akaashi stays on his own a moment longer. No, he thinks, Bokuto’s right. He’s grown up too much from when we first met, but he’s right. I can’t be afraid. He watches the giraffes disappear into the trees and then follows Bokuto.

**———**

Akaashi is patient with Bokuto’s silence as they continue. He wears his thoughtful expression and watches Akaashi when he thinks his attention is elsewhere. Akaashi pretends not to notice. Under Bokuto’s silence, he kicks himself for starting the conversation on the roof. He didn’t really mean to sound like he wanted to back out now. He’s just worried. It just didn’t come across right. He wanted Bokuto to know he has options if he happens to panic. Of course, Akaashi didn’t expect such a mature response. Shaking his head, he pushes the thoughts away, knowing they’ll only make him cringe.

On the other side of the station, they find it connects to another and from there they can cross along the lower rooftops and over the wall. It’s as simple as they thought it’d be.

The small office building they enter is luckily intact. The stairs still hold together so it’s an easy time climbing down and outside. When they’re partway down, Bokuto breaks the quiet, his voice echoing up to Akaashi since he’s taken the lead and is a flight ahead of him.

“I know you’re just looking out for me, Akaashi,” Bokuto says, “but we have to go all the way with this. When it’s all done, we can go back to Tozawa. We can go wherever you like, okay?”

Wherever he’d like? Akaashi wonders about that. He tries to remember back to who he was in Shizuoka. What would he want then if he were to return from a journey like this? Probably get the guns and supplies Daichi had promised him and return to finish up some deals. They were going to be swimming in rations with this deal.

But Kiyoko and Kuroo are long gone.

No matter how well off he’d be returning to Shizuoka, he can’t bare the thought. No, he’ll never go back there.

So then, if he could choose anywhere to go, where? He’d get to travel alongside Bokuto again. That’s appealing. But the thought of traveling cross-country again is an exhausting thought.

If he could go anywhere with Bokuto at his side, he honestly think he’d return to Tozawa. Bring an end to all this journeying. Find a place to finally settle down. Maybe at Tozawa they can face the uncertainty of this world in peace, safe and secure.

They end up back outside after exiting the building. The sun shines brightly into their faces and Akaashi shades his eyes to get a good look at their surroundings. What used to be a gas station’s parking lot stretches before them. The old overhang with its rusted gas pumps sets to the right. The entire space is fenced in, covered with old tents, their tarp fluttering in the light breeze. The grass has started growing back out of the cracks in the asphalt. Akaashi gazes around slowly, suddenly lost in memories.

“What is it?” Bokuto asks as they walk down a row of tents. He peers back over his shoulder at Akaashi’s face.

“This is an old triage,” Akaashi responds. “The military set these up wherever they could manage.” And safely, he adds. He doesn’t want to think of the ones set up, only to be overrun with infected. So many failed, he remembers. Some of the worst news came from hearing about infection broke out and everyone was killed. Triages could save so many people, yet they balanced on the edge of a knife with the outbreak. The could so easily turn into a massacre with no survivors.

“I was in one right after the outbreak, just outside Tokyo,” he continues when Bokuto doesn’t interrupt to ask questions. “Everywhere families were scattered, torn apart. It was just Iwaizumi and me then. Back before we came to Shizuoka. But it was like the world had been flipped upside down. Everything and everyone seemed to be misplaced.”

Bokuto blinks as he takes in Akaashi’s words. “Is that after you lost Konoha and the others?”

Akaashi nods, touched that Bokuto had thought to ask instead of irritated. “Yes, it was,” he says. He thinks back, surprised that the memories don’t sting like they used to.

“I’m sorry,” Bokuto says. “I can’t imagine losing someone like that. I’m sorry, Akaashi.”

“It’s okay,” Akaashi replies, turning to look away from the tents and back at Bokuto. And he thinks for the first time he actually means it. “It is. It’s alright.” He reaches out his hand to take Bokuto’s and lead them on, but Bokuto pulls back.

“Wait,” he mumbles. “Look—I have something for you.” He pulls something from his pockets and fumbles with it in his fingers for a moment. “I got it from Iwaizumi back in Tozawa. He told me to hang onto it for you.” He holds his hand out for Akaashi. “I’m sorry I kept it from you for so long.”

He takes the folded up paper and gently opens it. He knows what this is even before he sees it properly. It’s that dumb picture of Konoha and him from nationals. His lips twitch at the memory. He lets his eyes drink their fill of the boy from his past and then tucks it away in his pocket. He’s a little choked as he lifts his gaze back to Bokuto, but he finds that it’s okay. He looks at the boy of his present and feels his heart lighten considerable. He squeezes the hand still in his.

He clears his throat. “Thank you, Bokuto. I’m glad he had you take care of it for me.”

**———**

Leaving the triage behind them, Akaashi and Bokuto make their way to the road again, following the signs that lead toward the hospital. The road takes them down to a tunnel. There’s no clear path through with so many cars backed up, but Akaashi prefers this way to cutting through town. Following the signs will be safer and he really doesn’t want to get lost with the goal in sight.

The deeper into the tunnel they get, the more cars block their path. They help each other up and over some and crawl on their bellies under trucks too high to climb. At some easier points, they squeeze against the grimy walls. Eventually, it becomes impossible to even do this. To crawl over means jumping from car to car and so on. Crawling under would just be exhausting.

Up ahead, Akaashi spots an indent in the tunnel’s wall. There’s three cars to climb over before they reach it, a door. Akaashi braces himself up against the car while Bokuto sits on the roof. He slams his foot against the door. It takes four tries, but finally the latch breaks and it swings inward.

“We’ll take this way,” Akaashi says and Bokuto nods with no complaints.

It seems like a separate wing for workers, but it’s completely deserted. After walking for a few minutes, the path leads them upward on grated platforms and stairways. Maybe they worked on pipes or something, Akaashi guesses. There’s enough on the walls and ceilings around them. But the path is clear here and it’s much better than climbing over cars.

Bokuto runs ahead when the platform stretches out in front of them. It looks like it’ll lead them back to the roadway. Akaashi settles on keeping a close eye on him. It’s not so bad walking along here. There’s been plenty of places where the roof’s fallen in, bringing spring’s cool sunlight and plant growth just like the broken buildings. It’s a different kind of pretty.

“Uh oh,” Bokuto says as they near the end of the platform back to main tunnel. His voice bounces off the walls. “Ah man, this isn’t good.”

Akaashi doesn’t even have to ask. He can already hear it. There’s the clear sound of water roaring and he sees the beginnings of Bokuto getting anxious, panic gradually bubbling to the surface. “It’ll be fine,” he assures calmly. “I’ll go first so you can follow.”

He glances out over the edge, down to where the current flows not far away. The water splashes his shoes. It’s not strange to see sudden bouts of water like this. Who knows what’s shifted around these past few years. Whatever has, it’s directed a bunch of water moving swiftly through this section of the runnel. At least the old trucks can withstand it. There’s a bus nearby. It’ll make a decent platform to walk on.

“Right behind you,” Bokuto murmurs, following Akaashi’s gaze.

He doesn’t look too sure of himself. It’s up to Akaashi to make this seem easy and calm him however he can. He takes a deep breath and hopes he doesn’t slip.

Without a second thought, Akaashi jumps down onto the bus, trying to land as gently as possible. It rocks a bit under his weight, but other than that it stays sturdy. Bokuto follows behind, his landing noisier than Akaashi’s. The bus rocks again, but still holds. Beyond the bus are more large vehicles, lucky enough. It’s a similar sight to what they first found in the tunnels, a bunch of buses and semis. They line up well enough for them to pass. Any smaller cars must be hidden under the water.

Those sounds echo around them as they move. The metal beneath them creaks and resettles and the rushing water splashes, soon drenching their clothes. It might be sweat, too. He can’t get his heart to slow. It’s stressful business jumping over cars with water the only thing to catch you. And it will eat you up and carry you away. Akaashi hopes Bokuto’s doing okay. He hopes he’s not thinking too much about this.

Most trucks are lined up so they only have to crawl up to the top, but others require a bit more of a leap. Akaashi stays near the end on the other side, waiting for Bokuto to jump. He makes sure he gets across safely, hands ready to catch Bokuto if he needs it. Bokuto only hesitates on the first couple.

“I’m right here, Bokuto,” Akaashi promises. “If anything happens, I’ll pull you up. You won’t drown.”

“Reminding me so bluntly,” Bokuto mutters before taking the jump. He gets his upper half across while his legs trail behind in the water. Before it can pull him away with its current, Akaashi drags him up by the shoulders.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he says as he brushes him off, though they’re really just touches to reassure them both that Bokuto’s okay.

Bokuto tries kicking the water from his dripping shoes. “It wasn’t so great either.”

They climb up onto an air duct along the side of the wall next. It’s more rickety than everything so far, but with a gap in the water between them and the next bus, it’s their only option. They crouch down as they cross, gripping the wires that attack it to the ceiling whenever they can. Finally, at the end, they stand just above the bus, which has been turned onto its side. Probably from the water pushing against it for so long. Bokuto jumps down, wavering slightly as he gets his balance. Akaashi allows him to get halfway to the other side before he follows. Despite trying to land lightly, his feet slam against the bus’s side from the drop.

Suddenly, it lurches beneath his feet and both he and Bokuto fight to stay balanced on top of it. He doesn’t panic yet. They just need to get to the other side and quickly.

“Hey, move!” he yells to Bokuto when he only stands still.

Nodding, he turns to run and jump to the next truck where their bus is wedged between it and the wall. It won’t be for much longer. Akaashi rushes to follow, only when he takes his last step to jump, the ground below him vanishes. The bus door swings inward under his weight.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto shouts warningly, reaching out for him.

He hasn’t fallen all the way inside, just his right leg. It hangs helplessly with nothing to stand on. With his hands and other leg, Akaashi keeps himself on top.

Loosened from its place, the bus begins to shift, the water carrying it. He stretches his hand out for Bokuto, his other leg stilling kneeling on the bus, keeping him up. Bokuto’s just too far away though. Pulled by the current, the bus jostles as it screeches against the truck. It knocks Akaashi back and inside the bus.

His head bangs against the driver’s seat, but he manages to grab hold of a standing pole. He hangs desperately on. The water tugs at his clothes, trying to drag him to the bus’s rear. His hand slips and he’s pulled away. Before he’s swept away too far, he quickly readjusts to grabbing the arm of a chair midway back. And he wants to pull himself back up, but the metal arm snaps and he’s carried all the way to the back. It knocks him against the wall. Sputtering and gasping, he fights to get his head above water. Kicking his feet out, he can’t find the bottom. He needs to figure out a new escape plan before the bus fills entirely with water. The current is filling the bus just as it’s pulling it away.

He winces as a weight clashes against the rear door. The glass cracks and the door inches slightly open. There’s Bokuto. He’s jumped back down onto the bus. He let’s out a wild whoop that sounds like it’s coming more from adrenaline than anything else. He squeezes his fingers into the gap and tries folding the door open. He gives a big kick and the door snaps back, clanging into Akaashi’s already sore head.

He’s knocked back underwater, but, despite the pain, he kicks himself back to the surface to Bokuto’s awaiting hand.

“Come on!” he shouts. “Grab hold!”

The bus rocks against something else and Akaashi realizes with a sinking feeling that it’s turning over. The doors fall closed again and Bokuto slides along, heading closer to the edge and the awaiting water. And he can’t swim. Akaashi needs to get these doors open again. He reaches through the crack, trying to reach Bokuto, but he slides further and further away from him.

Akaashi calls out just as the bus flips and he’s fully submerged again, water filling his mouth. He fights to squeeze through the doors, not expecting the current that immediately whips him away. There’s no fighting it.

He’s knocked against a car before he swims under it to where the current slows. Not sure how far it’s taken him, He squints through the murkiness, trying to find the surface as well as Bokuto. He spots him floating up ahead, just where the murkiness clears up and light shines through. Akaashi swims as fast as his arms can pull and his legs can kick.

Bokuto is still, completely motionless where the current doesn’t reach and there’s no surface to float up to. Akaashi grabs him around the waist and keeps moving toward the light. He swims for it, needing it to be the surface.

And it is. He takes a gasping breath as his head breaks free, coughing up the water that seems to be filling his chest. He pulls Bokuto to the shallows where he can lay him down with his head and chest out of the water. He waits a moment before he realizes Bokuto hasn’t taken a breath yet. Despite the water he’s swallowed, his mouth goes dry.

He moves quickly. He brings his ear to Bokuto’s mouth and nothing. His chest doesn’t move either. Akaashi blinks rapidly, clearing the water from his eyes. He tilts Bokuto’s head up and his hands clasp and they settle in the center of that unmoving chest.

Beginning quick pumps, Akaashi feels the cartilage around the sternum crack. He winces, but pushes on. He tries to think of the songs that give the right rhythm, but they just won’t come. He just picks a pace and stays with it. His eyes shift from his hands to Bokuto’s face, waiting for him to start breathing again. Only he doesn’t. Akaashi keeps doing compressions.

He watches that mouth hang open limply, waiting for signs of life that don’t come as he keeps up his presses. This is not what’s supposed to happen. They’re so close. The boy that’s immune can’t be beaten like this. Akaashi grits his teeth, hands clenching painfully.

“Hey! Hands in the air!”

A voice bounces off the tunnel walls that lie behind him. Akaashi chooses to ignore it. He can’t stop now. Whoever’s here can shoot him. He needs to make sure Bokuto’s okay first. It feels like hours, but must have only been minutes.

“Did you hear me? Get those hands up!”

Akaashi hears a gun click, knows it’s aimed at him. “He’s not breathing,” he mutters. The explanation is shaky under the strain of everything.

There’s two men he sees out of the corner of his eyes, but that doesn’t matter. They shout more demands at him that he doesn’t hear. They aim guns at him, but he doesn’t care.

“Bokuto,” he begs through gritted teeth, “come on. Come on!”

Steps splash closer through the water. Something crashes into the side of his head, the same place as those times minutes before, and it all goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter, guys! Very exciting! It's hard to think that this is all winding down. But thank you as always! Hopefully the next chapter won't take too long. As a reader, I hate cliffhangers as much as the next.
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> [Chapter Title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yj6V_a1-EUA)


	16. At The End Of All Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.

Bokuto is the first thing he thinks of when he can actually start thinking again. Not the pain in his throbbing head or the fact that he’s lying on a cold metal table. He hasn’t even opened his eyes, but he wonders if Bokuto is alright. He needs to know. Right now.

His eyes flash open and they immediately lock onto the person sitting at his bedside. Those eyes stare back at him as if they’d knew he’d be awake right this second.

“You’ve officially found the Crows,” Daichi says. He looks Akaashi over, neither one of them moves. Daichi motions to his head, indicating Akaashi’s own badly bruised one. “Sorry about that. My guys didn’t know who you were.”

“Bokuto?” he croaks through a dry throat.

“Perfectly fine,” the other man in the room replies before Daichi gets the chance. He stands against the doorway, dressed in a white lab coat. He’s pretty enough, Akaashi thinks coolly. Besides the beauty mark, there’s not a scratch on his fair skin. Akaashi thinks it’s a bit unfair, considering this whole shitty apocalypse thing has left its mark on everything else.

It remains quiet while Akaashi takes the man’s reassurance in, silently breathing out in relief. Bokuto is okay. Still, part of his mind drags at him that it won’t be pleased until he actually sees him, touches him, makes sure he’s okay himself.

Instead, he has to sit under Daichi’s awed look and the other man’s sharp eyes. He’s at their mercy here. These are the Crows. Their place, their rules. He’ll see Bokuto when they say he can say Bokuto, as long as he wants this to go smoothly. And Akaashi desperately wants this to go smoothly. The easier this is for the Crows, the faster they’ll be done, and the faster he and Bokuto can start their way back to Tozawa.

He leans his head back and closes his eyes, the fatigue finally settling heavily on his chest.

“You made it all this way,” Daichi says with a shake of his head. “How?

Akaashi doesn’t open his eyes. Of course Daichi couldn’t see him of all people making this journey. Out of everyone—Kiyoko, Kuroo, Iwaizumi—Akaashi had never had anything to do with the Crows. He never wanted to. Yet he was the one to complete this cross country journey.

So he asks himself the same question. How did he make it all the way here?

It wasn’t him.

“Bokuto,” his voice croaks out again. “You should’ve seen him fight to get here. I just helped pave the way.”

Bokuto has changed so much in this journey, Akaashi thinks back. From the kid who had never even held a gun to saving both of their asses after that damn attack in the library. Bokuto has more than proven his drive to reach the Crows. Akaashi knows this. Other than helping here and there, he really had nothing to do with getting them here.

Bracing with his elbows, he pushes himself up into a sitting position. He groans at how his head spins with the effort. How many times did he hit it again?

Daichi gets to his feet, casting the other guy a glance as he does. “Nearly everyone I was with died on the journey up here. I was meeting Suga here—” he nods to the gray haired man— “and I almost lost everything. But, somehow, you make it with the one thing we need most _and_ we find you just in time to save him.” He sighs as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Maybe it was meant to be.”

Akaashi stares at him for a second, legs dangling over the edge. Meant to be? Maybe if it were, it wouldn’t have been so hard to get here. Maybe fate could have just carried them.

“Let me see him,” he says at last, getting to his feet, squaring off with Daichi.

“You don’t have to worry about him,” Suga says, stepping up. “We’ve got Bokuto now and we’ll make sure he’s taken care of.”

“I worry anyway,” Akaashi says shortly. Subconsciously, he presses a hand to his side. It aches under the day’s beating. Why do the Crows always have to be so troublesome? Can’t they just do as he asks? He’s tired. “Just—please let me see him.”

Silence stretches out between them as Daichi and Suga share a look. It makes Akaashi’s skin crawl. Daichi’s eyes turn back to him.

“You can’t.”

“What?” Akaashi growls.

“He’s being prepped for surgery as we speak,” Daichi continues, nearly overtop of him.

“Surgery?” he questions, and there’s a lot more to that question, but Suga interrupts.

“The infection you’ve seen firsthand is caused by something called the Cordyceps fungus, which is an infection in the brain. It’s similar to a parasite. But Bokuto has a mutation in his brain—a growth, if you will. That’s what makes him immune,” he explains. “Once it’s removed, we’ll be able to construct a vaccine.”

“Do you understand that?” Daichi continues. “A vaccine. We’ve waited five years for this. We can finally do something about it. You think we’d wait around for you to start?”

They both sound breathless with relief, like how Akaashi had started feeling earlier. Now he feels like that breath is slowly being sucked out of his chest. It leaves him empty.

“But that growth,” he starts, trying to make sense of Suga’s explanation, “it grows all over the brain?”

He sees Daichi swallow, smile slipping away, fading. So does any hope that Akaashi once harbored.

“It does.”

“Find another—anyone else,” Akaashi says.

“There is no one else.”

“No one that’s immune?” he challenges. “No one at all.”

“No,” Daichi answers evenly. Suga nods to back him up.

Akaashi’s fists clench as he considers what to say next. Seeing this, Suga backtracks to poke his head out the door. After a second, another man enters. Akaashi is definitely outnumbered now. He waits for Daichi to give some order to have him removed forcefully, but he doesn’t. All he does is stare at Akaashi.

“I understand,” he says quietly. “You think I don’t feel how you feel right now? More than what you feel? I watched him grow up, Akaashi. I taught him. I watched while he goofed off with his friends and when he had trouble at home. When he didn’t turn in homework, I was the one who tutored him after school so he wouldn’t fail, so he could keep playing volleyball because he loved nothing more in the world than that. And I kept him safe when he came to me that night. I kept him safe through all of this. I kept him safe until he slipped through my fingers and I couldn’t anymore.”

“Then why?” Akaashi asks. “Why are you letting him go through this?”

“Because none of that matters now. It’s not about me or Bokuto,” he says. exasperated, “It’s definitely not about you. We have no other choice, okay?”

“No other choice,” Akaashi repeats quietly as he leans back against the metal table. “I’m sure that’s what you Crows have been saying for five years now.”

Daichi thinks for a second before speaking again. “We promised you guns, supplies—I’ll be in touch about that—we’re very busy, as you can—”

Those guns were Kiyoko and Kuroo’s deal. Those guns do nothing but connect him back to Shizuoka. “I don’t want them,” he says. He wants Bokuto.

Daichi stares at him a bit longer, so long that Suga glances questioningly at him. Daichi’s face is set, his mouth a thin line, drawn tight. He’s not budging from this argument and Akaashi stares back unable to accept that. They can’t actually go through with the surgery. Is this really what their journey has led up to?

“Escort Akaashi out of here, Ennoshita,” Daichi says to the man, eyes staying on Akaashi. “If he resists, shoot him.” The hard tone of his voice softens slightly as he addresses Akaashi. “This is a gift, a miracle. Don’t waste it.”

Nodding to Suga, he heads for the door and, without a glance back, he leaves, Suga right behind him. They leave the door open.

Akaashi doesn’t move. He’s waiting for those words to sink in, but they don’t. He doesn’t even glance up when Ennoshita approaches him.

“Come on, stand up,” he says. When Akaashi doesn’t move right away, one of his hands moves to settle on his gun while the other grasps Akaashi’s arm. “Let’s go already.”

Narrowing his eyes at the man, Akaashi pushes himself off of the table and it rattles. He makes for the door. Ennoshita follows closely, hand always touching his gun. Akaashi’s surprised he hasn’t drawn it yet. He forces himself to walk slowly, even though his heart thumps painfully in his chest. It’s all he can do not to start running. This snail’s pace prompts impatient remarks from Ennoshita, but nothing more than that.

Akaashi needs more time. Just a second. He needs to _think_.

He’ll have to lose Ennoshita some way. Find his pack, too. Figures they took everything off of Bokuto and him. He’ll need to find out where they have Bokuto and he needs to get there as fast as he can.

“Left or right?” he asks quietly, stopping just outside the door.

Ennoshita gives a nod to their left.

They enter into a waiting room. There’s a front desk and a few of the chairs are still standing. Akaashi spots his backpack sitting on the desk’s counter. At his slow pace, they pass it. He doesn’t make a move just yet. He’ll come back for it. This needs to be timed perfectly if he’s going to do anything.

Just past the desk, he stops. Ennoshita knocks him in the shoulder lightly.

“Keep moving,” he demands.

Akaashi waits a moment more. Then he hears it. Ennoshita grabs hold of his gun to pull out.

It all happens in a flash. Before he can take aim at Akaashi, his gun arm is slammed against the wall, Akaashi’s hand locking it there. With his elbow, he knocks the rest of Ennoshita’s body against the wall as well.

“Dammit, don’t do this,” Ennoshita gasps.

“The operating room,” Akaashi growls into his ear. “Where is it? Where’s Bokuto?”

Ennoshita’s eyes roam about wildly looking for a solution. “You’ll ruin everything,” he hisses.

Akaashi doesn’t have time to waste. He yanks the gun from Ennoshita’s grip, aims it just a bit to the right of his torso, and fires into the wall. Ennoshita winces.

“It’s the top floor,” he mutters at last. “All the way down.”

Akaashi releases him, taking the gun with him. He spares only a quick look over his shoulder, just long enough to take aim and fire. Ennoshita thumps to the ground.

It’s just a shot above the knee. Enough to keep him from doing anything about this—situation.

Akaashi’s surprised he didn’t aim for the head.

“I heard gunshots! Check the floor,” someone yells farther off.

Akaashi grabs his backpack as he passes and disappears into the stairwell.

**———**

Maybe there was a split second where he thought that this couldn’t be the right decision. There had to be a better one. But there’s just no time. This feels wrong, but like a man drowning, all he can do is keep swimming forward.

The doubt passes quickly, like a cloud over the strongly blazing sun, but it cast its shadow nonetheless.

No. Akaashi has sacrificed too many people to the infection. Here, even though it is impossible for Bokuto to be infected, Akaashi’s about to lose him to it all the same. He’s done making sacrifices. He won’t let it go any further. He won’t—he can’t lose Bokuto, too.

Bokuto told him over and over that the one thing Akaashi didn’t have to worry over was him getting infected. Everyone else in Akaashi’s life was and would always be at risk to that, but not Bokuto. That’s why he couldn’t let this happen.

These thoughts carry him up the stairs. If there’s a moment where he thinks maybe Bokuto wouldn’t feel the same, it passes quicker than his first doubt.

**———**

He slides from room to room like a shadow. Every beam of light slides over his head as he keeps out of the Crows’ way. He’s only two floors away and the halls are filled with them and their murmuring as they hunt for him. He keeps Ennoshita’s gun in hand, but wanting to remain hidden keeps his finger from squeezing the trigger. He can’t afford a shootout here. Not with the Crows.

“It’s the smuggler,” they whisper.

To them, he’s just the smuggler. He’s just the guy who was supposed to do a job and—what? He’s gone mad now, right? Is that what they think?

“And he’s here? Do you hear him?”

“No, but he’s on this floor.”

Their whispers slither along the walls to Akaashi’s ears. He takes care to go around them. He’s no good to Bokuto dead.

“He shot Ennoshita, right?”

“Yeah, is he okay though?”

“Probably not with this guy.”

Akaashi tries to ignore their words. He finds the next staircase. It will take him up the last few floors. Then he’ll be with Bokuto again and make sure nothing bad will ever happen to him again.

“Have you heard the things he’s done?”

“They can’t all be true.”

“I don’t know…”

“Well, he did bring the kid. Suga can get a vaccine made from him.”

Akaashi keeps his feet silent on the stairs and heads up. Their voices grow fainter.

“If he brought the kid to help us—”

“I know.”

“—then what the fuck is he doing now?”

“I know.”

**———**

Akaashi doesn’t need to kill the Crows. He doesn’t want to. At least, the logical part of his mind doesn’t want to. The other part that’s so angry that they would do such a thing to Bokuto couldn’t care less, but he’s smart enough to try and ignore that side.

Beyond the Crows, there is no one else looking for a cure. When he takes Bokuto away, that won’t change anything. It’s not like they’ll stop.

Besides, he doesn’t care what happens to the Crows. Between them and the military, they can take each other out. He won’t get in the way of that. He just needs Bokuto and then he’ll go. Then he’ll never want to hear about the Crows again.

If they get in his way though—

**———**

He runs down a long hallway with windows showing off the rest of the hospital wings. Lights are set up along the walls, all attached to extension cords that run down the hall. They show the way. It’s already dark outside. Without the lights, he doesn’t think he’d be able to find his way through this gloom.

Akaashi comes to a halt just outside a plastic flap with a big quarantine sign on it. He hears footsteps thudding further up the hall. The crackle of radio comes with them. The Crows downstairs are requesting help, he hears. They’ve lost sight of him. He clings to the shadows in the corner where it’s darkest. In the rush to get downstairs, the reinforcements run right past him. He waits to watch them disappear into the stairway he’d just left.

He comes to an open waiting room, completely cleared out. Tents are set up with quarantine signs and the Crows’ symbol. He’s found it painted on nearly every wall, in case he’d happen to forget where he is. Akaashi has to go through the tents to get to the other side.

They’re all abandoned, just filled with empty cots and test tubes and syringes and whatever else the Crows would need, other medical supplies he can’t name. Maybe in another life he could.

He wonders if they were trying to find the cure here, right inside these tents. Tried and failed.

Brushing through the last tent, Akaashi approaches the set of windows lining the opposite wall. Cupping his hands around his eyes to see, he spots one set of lights along the wing to his left, shadows moving up and down along the hall. It’s a beacon compared to the rest of the little flicker of lights set up everywhere else.

“That has to be it,” he mutters to himself.

He takes out his own gun in order to have one in each hand. He checks that they’re both loaded and turns the corner.

There’s no sneaking along the shadows now. He stands before the Crows and their florescent lights, guns no longer just a precaution. He aims to kill now because he’s dead if he leaves even one alive.

Catching them off-guard only gives him a slight advantage. His biggest advantage is that most of them have moved downstairs to help search for him.

Now is where he has to draw the line at whether he chooses Crows’ lives or Bokuto’s. And it has to be Bokuto.

If he shoots down all of these guards and gets into the surgery room, he’ll be home free. Or he’ll at least have Bokuto again. Finding a way out of here will be a different story.

For all the talk, the Crows fall just like everyone else. Some of them can’t even hit the broad side of a barn. New recruits, Akaashi guesses. They remind him a bit of Bokuto at the beginning of their journey. That thought comes to him from very far away and it’s like he stares at it through a thick haze. So it doesn’t bother him much when he shoots and they hit the ground and they don’t move again.

If they hit him while he presses forward down the hall, he doesn’t feel it. There’s no time to take stock of his injuries. He feels numb. Nothing can touch him. Nothing can hurt him because he knows nothing will hurt more than walking away from here empty-handed.

Even the sound of gunfire has faded, like his senses are slowly failing him. He’s just wading through black water and it’s suffocating.

The last stretch of hall is eerily empty. Everything is still. Bodies lay behind him, but he continues forward. His pace is slowed only by a limp he’s somehow obtained. Maybe a shot to his knee? He doesn’t know. He can’t feel it. He just adapts his gait automatically.

He enters a room and through a blue curtain he sees silhouettes, oddly disfigured by the light’s angle. Without wasting a second, he pushes it aside.

There are gasps and everyone freezes.

They didn’t expect to be interrupted.

Akaashi finds Bokuto lying on a surgical table. He’s unconscious, just like the last time Akaashi saw him. A machine beeps nearby along with his pulse. Bokuto’s dressed for surgery, hospital gown, hooked up to an IV, everything Akaashi had imagined and feared.

“You can’t be here.”

Thought the doctors are all dressed the same with their faces covered, Akaashi recognizes Suga’s voice, spots the beauty mark by his left eye. He stands near Bokuto’s head.

Akaashi ignores him and walks over to Bokuto. The other two doctors back away, but Suga doesn’t move.

“He is our future,” Suga continues. “If you take him from us, you take everything.”

Akaashi’s well aware of that, but what Suga doesn’t know is that if they take Bokuto away, they’ll be taking everything from him. That’s not something he’s going to let happen this time. Not if he can do something about it.

Ennoshita’s gun is empty. It gets tossed to the ground. The sudden noise makes Suga flinch, but he stays where he is. The doctors have nothing to fight him with here. Except he sees a scalpel in Suga’s hand. It’s slightly raised. Bloody, too. He spots a shallow cut right above Bokuto’s eyebrow. This is what Suga plans to fight him with? The last ditch effort to save mankind’s cure?

Akaashi smacks it out of his hand and Suga watches it slide across the floor, out of reach. Akaashi’s already turned his attention back to Bokuto.

“You’re with me now,” Akaashi murmurs to him as he reaches across his chest. He gently removes the IV and slides the tubes from his nose. The machine drones on as it flat lines. He tightens his grip around Bokuto’s shoulders and moves his gun hand under his knees so he can still aim somewhat. He lifts, cradling Bokuto against his chest.

Suga has backed away to stand in front of the door. The others have moved well out of the way, but it seems Suga is still willing to put up a fight.

“Move,” Akaashi grunts, shifting Bokuto in his arms. He doesn’t want to shoot Suga. Doctors are so precious these days and if he’s been working on a cure—

If he was doing it before Bokuto, then he’ll continue after Bokuto is long gone.

“I can’t,” Suga says softly. He’s prepared to die for this, Akaashi can see it on his face.

“He is everything,” Akaashi gets out through his teeth. “I get that. But that’s exactly why he can’t die here.” Not like this, he thinks. Not when we’ve fought so hard to live.

Suga gives a slight shake of his head. “No,” he says. “I mean I can’t let you go without promising me something.”

Akaashi blinks, taken aback, before his eyes narrow. “I’m not making any promises with you. You can’t have him.”

Continuing on as if he hadn’t spoken at all, Suga says, “Daichi will want to stop you. He’ll do anything for this. It’s his life.” He takes a breath, eyes skirting away for a moment before they land back on Akaashi. “Don’t kill him. He fought like hell to get here for this. I didn’t even expect him to—this is all he cares about and—” he looks at Bokuto “—I understand. _He_ is everything, so please don’t take him away, too.

“If you do this, I swear, you’ll never see or hear from us again, Akaashi.”

And Akaashi meets Suga’s even gaze to find an understanding he never thought he’d see. It really is there. Someone willing to go against humanity itself just to save one other person. He and Suga would damn the rest of humanity for this and have no regrets. No matter how Daichi or Bokuto would feel about it, they’d go back and make the same decision ten times over.

“I can’t make you any promises,” Akaashi says, choosing his words carefully, “but I’ll try.”

Maybe Suga sees something in his eyes, too, because he looks for a moment and then he nods. He steps out of Akaashi’s way.

With Bokuto heavy in his arms, Akaashi leaves through the way he entered. He leaves Suga and those other panicked doctors behind. He wonders if they’ll tell give Suga away for what he’s done. He doubts it. Suga seems to have a way of striking terror into every heart if he wished.

Akaashi turns away from the bodies he’d massacred minutes ago and chooses a different staircase. Lights flash in the window he’d looked through earlier. The Crows know where he is. They’ve all moved up to the top floor. Alarms have started blaring, though weakly. Maybe an old fire alarm or emergency system. The warning lights spins, red and white, blinding him.

Bokuto’s head bounces limply over Akaashi’s arm as he runs. It’s the best sprint he can manage. He forces his eyes up though all he really wants to do is look at Bokuto, just keep looking until he can reassure himself that he’s okay. That he’ll be okay. He can barely convince himself that he really has Bokuto in his arms.

The top floor has turned into a maze. He forges a new path from the one he’d taken to get up here and he has no idea where he’s going. He passes through pediatrics, the only wing that’s silent of the yelling and the radio crackles and the searching lights. He nearly trips over toppled chairs. They’re too small, made for children.

It’s supposed to be bright and cheerful here. In the darkness, those grimy colors flare up under the alarms. It’s just creepy. Not a place for sick kids.

Just as he hears pursuing footsteps closing in behind him, he turns to an open elevator. Luck is shining on him. It has to be luck. He doesn’t know what else to call it. If he’s ever believed in luck, it’s right now.

Bullets rain over his shoulder and he ducks down, pulling Bokuto even tighter into his chest. Inside the elevator, he dodges to the side, slamming a fist against the buttons until the doors start to close. Now that he’s turned around, he sees them coming. It’s too late though. They won’t make it in time. The doors slide closed.

He pants in the silence and holds Bokuto even tighter with shaky hands. For some reason, his trembling still doesn’t subside. He leans back against the wall. His knees shake, too. They want to give out beneath him. He wants to slide to the ground. He can’t. They’re almost there.

“Okay, okay,” he breathes. “We’ll be okay.”

He watches the numbers count down, ticking their way to below ground, to the garage. Surely, the Crows will have a working car, he thinks.

Nearing his destination, Akaashi steps up to the doors, readjusting Bokuto in his arms. The doors open and everything looks empty. He walks out.

He feels dead already when he hears a gun clicking. Akaashi sees Daichi appear from the wall’s shadow. His gun points at Akaashi’s face.

“So this is you saving him?” Daichi asks. “No wonder everyone’s dead.”

If he’s mocking Akaashi, his face doesn’t show it. Neither does his voice. Daichi just looks angry.

Akaashi stays where he is. His arms are locked around Bokuto. Daichi will have to shoot him himself if he wants Bokuto back.

“And if you do get him out of here?” Daichi continues. “I’ve traveled the same road you have. How long until the infected tear him to bits? If not that then maybe someone else will just shoot him and leave him on the side of the road. What then—”

“That’s not your decision,” Akaashi interrupts.

“Then when did it become yours?” Daichi shoots back at him.

Akaashi hesitates, but hidden beneath Bokuto’s hospital gown he grips the gun in his hand so hard it hurts.

“You know this is what he wants.”

Still, Akaashi says nothing. Doubt sends its tendrils through his mind like vines. It twists round and round and he can’t follow it. How did everything lead up to this?

Daichi is slowly lowering his gun. “It’s not too late, Akaashi. We can still do what’s right.” He looks at Bokuto and it hurts Akaashi to see some of what he’s feeling on Daichi’s face. “I promise, it won’t hurt. He won’t feel anything.”

When Akaashi still doesn’t say anything, Daichi approaches. His hands are raised. Akaashi can imagine it. Daichi will tuck his gun away and then offer to take Bokuto from him. Maybe he’ll allow Akaashi to carry him back up to Suga. Then maybe he’ll have his chance to walk away again. Maybe they let him go, maybe they shoot him in the back. They won’t want any more problems from him.

He shifts Bokuto and squeezes the trigger.

And he tries so hard to convince himself this is right. He tries so hard to keep everything under a straight face. He tries so hard to think that this is for Bokuto.

Before Daichi falls to the ground, Akaashi pictures the first time they met. For a split second, he stands there, gripping the same side, hunched over a bit. The blood spreads slowly, seeping into his shirt. It feels like another lifetime ago.

But he does fall and Akaashi walks past.

There’s a van, one of the hospital’s. It’s the closest one and it’s unlocked. He lays Bokuto across the back seat and slides his pack on the floor. He never did find Bokuto’s backpack. Akaashi doesn’t think of it now, but he will. The last thing Kuroo left him with. He finds keys in the cup holder up front. Then he turns back to finish what he started.

Akaashi returns to Daichi. He’s still on the ground, the blood from his wound spilling onto the concrete. Akaashi doesn’t have much sympathy when he sees him this time. He raises his gun again, now level with Daichi’s face.

Daichi doesn’t look like anything Akaashi remembers. His eyes are wide and he trembles under the pain of the bullet wound. He trembles under everything that’s happened. Akaashi is pulling the rug out from under Daichi. He’s taking everything from him. But if he doesn’t, then Daichi takes everything from him. And he’s already decided that he’s not going to allow that to happen again.

In his eyes, Daichi always had this sort of composure surrounding him. Even when they met for the first time. When Daichi suffered the same wound that he is now, beaten, and weak. Even then he wore the bruises with pride. He was doing the Crows’ work. He was proud to do his part in saving humanity. Now he’s crumpled on the ground beneath him, his life in Akaashi’s hands.

It would be so easy to pull the trigger.

“Just leave,” Daichi grunts. He holds a bloody hand up. “You have him. Go.”

And Akaashi wants to. He wants to so bad.

“I should shoot you,” he says instead, though he’s sure Daichi knows this. “You’ll just come after us. You’ll do anything to get him back.”

Daichi shakes his head. “I won’t. I swear I—”

“You will.” Akaashi sighs, dropping the gun to his side. “But I made a promise. I promised I’d keep you alive. Me and him, we have an understanding. And I keep my promises.”

This feels like a loose end. He wants to leave Daichi dead. It takes every bit of willpower he has to walk away, to get into the van. His twitching fingers don’t want to listen when he tries getting the keys into the ignition, but they do. The van starts and somehow he drives away, leaving Daichi bleeding, but alive behind him.

But in that moment he swears that if he ever sees Daichi again, he won’t hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes.

**———**

He remembers going for long drives to calm down before the outbreak. Pick a good album to listen to and all his troubles could take the backseat. He didn’t have to know where he was going. He’d just drive.

Now it seems like every trouble he has ever bottled up fills up the car. He wonders if it’s suffocating Bokuto, too, as he sleep on. It feels like the night will never end and his heart keeps pumping in his ears. It will take a long time for that adrenaline to fade.

There’s a terrible relief that he feels deep down, but it’s starting to become so hard to find. Every time he looks back at Bokuto in the rearview mirror, he feels sick. Was he wrong when he said he’d have no regrets?

But he doesn’t. He can’t wish Bokuto away. He can’t even imagine what would have happened if he’d left him there. Nevertheless, he feels so—dirty.

Like he wants to swerve the car off the road and be done with it all. Or maybe instead take Bokuto’s place instead. Go to sleep and never wake up. Would he be safe from his demons then?

And the longer he drives, the longer he thinks. The thicker the silence gets. And just like his thoughts, the night sky is dark and sends him no hope that dawn will ever come. Maybe it’s because Bokuto is silent and though he doesn’t imagine—can’t imagine—it’s too easy to forget he’s there. It’s too easy to think that he hadn’t grabbed him. Everything he’s just done—it’s just too crazy to believe, even to himself.

Everyone wanted Bokuto to be the cure. Even Akaashi for a time. So then, when push came to shove, why did he do—well this?

Such a mess.

Maybe it would’ve been best to have never left Tozawa when they finally got there. He should’ve known that the Crows were too good to be true. All of this has been for nothing. Thanks to him.

And Kuroo and Kenma? They followed him. They would have followed him to the end. Hell, they probably would have even followed his decision now.

But they didn’t make it this far.

They died for nothing.

He should have never left Tozawa. They were lucky to make it that far.

But they had to go. They couldn’t have stayed in Tozawa, never knowing what fate awaited them with the Crows. They had to to.

And Kiyoko who died before this journey even truly began. Her last wish was for him to get Bokuto to the Crows. To make the cure a reality. That’s all she wanted in the end. And he always kept his promises.

Maybe he should’ve broken his promise to Suga, too. Maybe he should’ve just killed Daichi. Save himself the trouble.

But then that’d be just another name on the list of people he’s let die.

Bokuto’s name isn’t on that list though. Is that the only thing he has going for him? Probably. Bokuto has always been the exception. Part of him is willing to accept this. That part of him is willing to put up with all the dark just for that. The light that comes when he smiles and when he laughs—

The other part wonders if he wouldn’t be better off dead. He’s let down everyone. He might’ve let down Bokuto as well.

But he’s alive, if that counts. Akaashi thinks it does.

Somewhere along the line, while he’s lost in his thoughts, the sun paints the clouds pink in the distant. It hasn’t risen just yet, but it’s nearly there. Akaashi only sees this when he hears a groan behind him.

“Wow, my head hurts,” comes Bokuto’s weak voice.

Akaashi glances back to see him pressing a hand to his forehead.

“What happened?” He glances down at the hospital gown he still has on. “What am I wearing?”

Akaashi glances back to the road. “You need to take it easy. The drugs are probably still wearing off.”

“What happened?” Bokuto asks again, his tone all innocence. He rubs his eyes.

His voice makes Akaashi’s stomach sink, like it’s gone straight down through the car and he drives on without it. He’s not sure how to answer. He’s not sure if he wants to answer. He sighs so Bokuto can’t hear him. He had thought too much about what he would say to him. Now that it’s come to it, he really doesn’t want to.

“The Crows,” he says, his voice sounding miles off, “we found them.” He swallows. “While you were out, they said—they said there’s more like you. Immune, I mean.” He feels the corners of his mouth pulled down and he struggles to keep his face empty. Not that Bokuto can see him. He never thought it’d be so hard to lie to him. He never thought he’d need to. Not outright. Not like this. “They’re checking levels of immunity, which is why you’re here. They don’t need you.”

He waits a moment, waiting for Bokuto to say something. Anything.

“Oh,” he says at last, like he was waiting for Akaashi to keep talking. He almost sounds choked, but it’s such a short word that Akaashi can’t be sure. He tenses at it.

Digging his fingers into the steering wheel, he hammers the nail into the coffin. “They, uh, they’re actually thinking of stopping.” He pauses. Clears his throat. “They might stop looking for a cure altogether.”

He looks up in time to see Bokuto move to hide his face with both hands. He turns away to face the back of his seat. His shoulders shake and Akaashi has to look away.

“We’re going home now.”

**———**

Later that morning, the van finally runs out of gas. It slows to a stop and Akaashi pulls it over to the side of the road where it comes to a halt. He sits staring at the wheel for a moment. Bokuto doesn’t move either. He’s dressed now, the clothes from Akaashi’s backpack. Long sleeves still to face spring’s slight chill.

“Looks like we’re walking the rest of the way,” Akaachi says and opens the door.

Standing outside, he waits. It takes Bokuto a moment longer to sit up and exit the van. He glances around. It’s a clear shot through the trees and then down a ways to Tozawa. The van has helped a lot. And to think how long it took them to get up to Asamushi in winter. Bokuto hands him his backpack.

“We’re not far,” he tells Bokuto as they start off. “Tozawa’s just through here.”

“Alright,” Bokuto says, he sounds tired.

“It’s pretty in spring,” Akaashi comments. The flowers are in bloom and the insects haven’t made an appearance yet. It’s warming up a bit, more than Asamushi now that they’ve moved further south.

“It is,” Bokuto replies.

Akaashi looks back to see Bokuto running his fingers over some flowers. They sway in the absence of his touch.

“You know,” he starts slowly, “whenever I’m heading home, no matter where that is, I always think of Konoha.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’d always wait up for me, no matter how late. Even if he had an early class. He’d fall asleep on the couch sometimes.” Akaashi laughs. He thinks back on the memories. “I think you would’ve liked them—all of them.” More quietly, “And they would’ve liked you, too.”

Bokuto laughs softly behind him. “I’m sure I would.”

He hauls himself up over the rocks in their way. It’s a slight cut in the forest floor. He doesn’t know when the land shifted to rise here, whether before or after the outbreak, but it will overlook Tozawa at the top. It’ll be a nice view. It won’t have giraffes, but it’ll be a different kind of nice.

A view that whispers of coming home.

He stretches his hand down to help Bokuto up on some of the bigger rises.

“I got you,” he says.

Bokuto steps up on a fallen log and grips Akaashi’s wrist while kicking off the dirt to propel himself upward. A stream rushes past them, swollen with everything winter has thawed to give it. It bubbles down the side, heading toward Tozawa where it will pass through to join up with the river. They have to cross through it to reach the other side where the decent isn’t as steep.

“You alright?” Akaashi asks once he’s on the other side.

Bokuto laughs lightly. “Yeah, this I can cross.”

Akaashi watches him step from stone to stone. His pants get a little wet, but he makes it across in one piece. Akaashi smiles at him.

“Good?” he asks, already starting to turn back toward Tozawa. He reaches for Bokuto’s hand as he does, only Bokuto pulls away.

“Actually,” Bokuto’s voice stops him in his track. “Wait a second.”

Akaashi turns around to look at him and Bokuto hesitates. He looks at his hands. His faces scrunches up ever so slight, which concerns Akaashi.

Finally, he sighs exasperatedly, almost overdramatic, which normally would have had Akaashi smiling. But not now. He waits. Bokuto whips away and starts pacing.

“I need to tell you something,” he says and he swings his arms around. He looks like he’s preparing for a run instead of whatever it is he needs to say.

Then Bokuto stops, and faces Akaashi again. He’s back to wringing his hands again, though when Akaashi looks, he’s tracing that bite on his wrist.

“When I was first bit in Shizuoka, I wasn’t alone,” he says, his voice slower than Akaashi expected. “I was with my two best friends. They got bit with me.” He gnaws on his lip. “We didn’t know what to do, so they say maybe we can fight. They wanted to fight the infection and spend our last moments together, however long we had. I didn’t tell them, but I just wanted to get it over with. I don’t—they just—they wanted to wait it out together so bad. I couldn’t bare telling them that.”

He pauses, his hand clenched around his wrist now. Akaashi doesn’t know what to say.

“They wanted to fight and I wanted to shoot myself, but, because of them, I didn’t. They’re dead and I’m still here,” he continues.

“Bokuto—”

“Their names were Tanaka Ryuunosuke and Nishinoya Yuu. I need you to know that. They were the first to die. Then it was Kiyoko and then Kenma and Kuroo.” He bites his lip.

Akaashi cuts in before he can continue. “None of that is your fault.” He says it slowly so that each word can sink in. “That may not be what you want to hear—”

“But you don’t understand, Akaashi. Without the vaccine, what’s left for _me_ to fight for?”

“I’ve thought of giving up so many times now,” Akaashi continues, pushing on. “It’s a—struggle, but that’s the thing with surviving. Terrible things happen, but you push on and you keep finding something new to fight for.”

Bokuto looks at him for a moment. Just looks. He crosses his arms over his chest, as if he’s struggling to keep something in. Birds call overhead. Perhaps they’re returning to their nests after a long winter. Akaashi feels frozen in Bokuto’s gaze.

“Promise me,” he says at least. His voice is different now. It’s strong. His eyes are clear. “Promise that every single thing you said about the Crows is the truth.”

Akaashi nearly gags at Bokuto’s words, but none of that shows on his face. He sniffs and meets Bokuto’s eyes. He nods. This is the right thing.

“I promise.”

Bokuto thinks this over. Akaashi can see the cogs spinning and he wishes he knew exactly what was running through his brain, his perfect brain that’s still intact and not dissected by the Crows. Only he can’t. He’ll never know.

Bokuto looks back at him. He nods. He allows Akaashi to take his hand and lead him away. Their fingers intertwine loosely. They away from the water and toward Tozawa. Akaashi relinquishes to the feeling of being able to hold Bokuto again. Maybe not fully, but that will come later. There’s enough time for everything now. There’s so much time now. Without a journey, without expectations, without the Crows, things will come easier now. Bokuto doesn’t have to be the cure anymore.

“Okay.”

Akaashi squeezes Bokuto’s hand. It’s sweaty and warm in his.

A second passes. Bokuto squeezes back.

_*_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was very emotional coming to the end of this story. Besides obviously reasons, it's hard to understand that it's finished. I haven't been able to finish a big project like this for a very long time so it's hard to comprehend that I won't be working on the next chapter later tonight. 
> 
> I don't have the words to properly bring this to a close...
> 
> Thank you to everyone from kudos and bookmarks to kind thoughts. 
> 
> But a very special thank you to everyone who commented and did fanart. Honestly, I can't say we'd be here at the end without you. Thank you for motivating and inspiring me. 
> 
> My tumblr: [silentmarco](http://silentmarco.tumblr.com/)  
> Feel free to come talk to me. I will be feeling too much about this story for a long time.
> 
>  
> 
> [Chapter Title](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSWIfX_MNCY&list=PLeJqgTBT-7N9RbDs4H1B_mPibS7K4Qnih&index=27)
> 
>  
> 
> I also put together a playlist on YouTube: [It Ends With You](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLeJqgTBT-7N9RbDs4H1B_mPibS7K4Qnih)
> 
> So I do have a sort of sequel to this in mind. I plan on returning to it eventually, but as painful as it is to step away, I believe I need to. On the other hand, I do have another fic in the works. As soon as I'm able to plan it out a bit more, I will post the first chapter.
> 
> Again, thank you for coming on this journey with me.


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